


Lucy Potter

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2019-01-19 05:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12403854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Join Lucy Potter with her Witch Friend Shelandragh May in their adventures in the MOnaro region of Australia.





	Lucy Potter

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

  
Author's notes: 1  


* * *
    
    
    **‘Lucy Potter’**
    
    
    
    
     by
    
    
    
    
    Daniel Daly
    
    Prologue
    
    
    
    
     David Potter looked at the dark
    lord, a feeling of dread within his stomach.  His brother and
    his brother’s wife had been killed by Voldemort.  Their son,
    Harry, had been thankfully and gracefully delivered, but David knew
    that he was in trouble.  He knew his time was short.  That
    morning he had sent Caroline safely away with his newborn child Lucy,
    and the two of them were now safe – beyond the dark lord’s
    reach.  But David knew, as he watched Voldemort menacingly
    approach, that his time had come.  Voldemort knew of Caroline,
    but would give her little thought, so David hoped.  She was a
    muggle – not given to the craft.  But his beloved daughter,
    young Lucy, she was certainly a half-blood.  She would have the
    gift.  She would have the power which Voldemort sought to
    corrupt.  But Voldemort did not know of her.  He would
    never know.  David would die before he shared that information
    with his hated enemy.  He would give his life over to the
    netherworld before he would betray his beloved child.  And as
    the power of the spell of ‘shados’ – the shadowlife - was
    placed upon David by his enemy before him, he knew at that moment
    that his daughter would be safe.  He knew his beloved Lucy would
    not fall into the hands of Voldemort.  That she, at least, would
    have a happy and safe life.  Away and hidden from the power of
    the Dark Lord.  Hidden in Australia, were wizards and witches
    from the old world did not greatly frequent.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    As the spell overcame him, he sank to
    the ground.  His spirit slowly departed his body and entered the
    shadow realm.  A place it would remain – trapped and beyond
    the ability of anyone to help him.  A slave to the Shadow Realm,
    were other tortured souls lived out their existence.  But Lucy
    was safe.  Thankfully she was safe.  And as he entered the
    darkness he was grateful for that one small mercy.
    
    
    
    
    Chapter One
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Young Miss Lucy Potter’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    At 10 years of age, Lucy was a happy
    child.  Under her mother’s guidance, through the knowledge, if
    not skill, her husband had taught her, Lucy had learned from Caroline
    much of the ways of witchery.  Lucy, so talented at her craft,
    had excelled in the gift.  Caroline had shared with Lucy a
    little of her Father, David’s life, and said he had been a good
    man, and that she would have been proud of him.  But she had not
    shared those other secrets of his life.  Those other details,
    which she knew she must keep hidden from her daughter.  Caroline
    had once looked into the welfare of her nephew, Harry.  David
    had departed from the life of Harry’s father at a very young age,
    and had been presumed dead or missing by the Potter family.  But
    David had kept his eye on the Potter family from time to time –
    never revealing himself, but watching over their happiness. 
    With the birth of Harry he had been happy for them, but knew with
    Harry’s parent’s untimely death that he must avenge his brother. 
    Caroline had told David to stay out of the matter, certain it would
    only bring them harm, but David had been resolute.  The Dark
    Lord was to be confronted – and dealt with.  But of that
    encounter, Caroline had received word amongst the wizard community,
    and when David failed to return she knew her beloved had perished. 
    She had visited Hogwarts once only, in the company of a trusted
    witch-friend who occasionally visited the school of wizardry. 
    She had seen Harry, who was in the presence of a red-headed lad at
    the time.  She felt assured and encouraged that he was happy in
    life, and that things would look up for her nephew.  She felt,
    then, it was safe to leave him be and concentrate on the upbringing
    of her own child, Lucy.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy looked at the cat hovering in
    mid-air, very pleased with the success she’d achieved.  She
    had used the new ‘English’ spell ‘Hover’, which was based on
    the ancient spells, but had been spellwoven by her teacher,
    ‘Shelandragh May’.  Shelandragh had woven many spells around
    the Bunyan hutlet, and one of them allowed older spells to be now
    spoken in basic English.  She was a revered teacher of the craft
    in her region, and found it useful to start new beginners in their
    own basic language, before they moved on to the older tongue. 
    Lucy, her current pupil, lived just down the road in the hutlet of
    Chakola, just off the highway.  Lucy’s mother, Caroline, had
    approached Shelandragh and asked her, if she was willing, to teach
    her daughter the craft, as this was what her Father would have
    wished.  When Caroline had explained that they were from
    England, Shelandragh had made the comment that spiritual realities
    were different in the southern continent.  Older aboriginal
    spirits hovered here.  The lords of the dreamtime spoke with her
    in dreams and visions, and insisted on certain protocols and a degree
    or respect be shown the indigenous people.  But they had
    permitted Shelandragh to practice her craft in the Bunyan region, as
    long as such activities were within reason.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Shelandragh had respected the dreamtime
    lord’s wishes and woven certain spells around bunyan to keep peace
    and harmony with the region, without letting any of the other nearby
    spirits be affected by her work.  She was of course, very
    careful about the region just to the north of her.  Under
    Canberra dwelt an old and ancient dragon.  A most fearful
    opponent.  A cave, hidden in the mountains of the Brindabella’s,
    lead down to an ominous cavern, were the beast dwelt.  An
    aboriginal tribesman had shown her the cave, but warned her not to
    venture into it.  But she, in her stubborn pride, had refused to
    listen to his words, and dared the cave.  The journey had been
    fearful and long, as she walked along eastward and then northward,
    coming into a huge cavern.  It was there she spotted an enormous
    dragon, dark black, with a golden ridge along his spine, sleeping and
    snoring loudly.  It was the largest dragon she had ever seen,
    and she was silently terrified.  She left, very carefully and
    quietly.  But she was satisfied.  She had seen with her own
    two eyes the beast, and had identified its breed – the ‘Golden
    Ridged Wyvvern’ – the largest of all the Wyvvern’s, which was
    not, technically, a dragon in the classification she knew of, but
    which the aboriginal’s probably would not know of.  Still, to
    her pupils she usually called the beast a dragon, when they were
    older occasionally spelling out its exact classification.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Satisfied that the spell was working,
    Lucy looked around the room.  The cat, Shelandragh’s, was
    miaowing furiously at having been made to hover in the middle of the
    air, which the cat was finding most distressful.  ‘Calm down,
    Mushroom.’  Lucy said, speaking to the cat.  ‘I will
    let you down when I am satisfied.’  The cat, Mushroom, ignored
    her and persisted in her cries.  Lucy looked at a stack of books
    lying near the fireplace.  Old tomes of spells, she presumed. 
    Yes – they would make a perfect next subject.  She pointed her
    wand and spoke the word, again in plain English.  ‘Hover’. 
    The books, obediently, rose from the ground and settled in the air at
    about the same height as Mushroom, who was still persistently
    miaowing.  Lucy was overjoyed.  She turned to the vacuum
    cleaner near the wall and again repeated the spell, with again the
    same success.  Looking at the objects, Lucy was so pleased, that
    she did not notice Shelandragh who had walked into the room and was
    standing behind her looking at what her young pupil had achieved. 
    She smiled to herself, pleased that Lucy was showing the gifts, now,
    quite well.  But she came to herself and knew she had a
    demeanour to maintain.  ‘Lucy Potter!,’ she exclaimed. 
    ‘Heaven’s above.  What do you think you are doing, young
    lady?’  Lucy jumped, turning to Shelandragh, losing
    concentration on her objects, which dutifully fell to the ground. 
    The cat Mushroom screeched, running to the lounge chair, hiding
    underneath.  The vacuum cleaner smashed into the ground, the
    case coming loose with dust spewing everywhere.  Fortunately,
    for Lucy, the books smacked into the ground, but seemed to be
    otherwise intact.  Lucy froze.  ‘I’m sorry,
    Shelandragh.  I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’ she exclaimed. 
    Shelandragh looked at the mess the floor was now in.  She walked
    into the kitchen, and soon returned with dustpan and brush in hand. 
    She handed them to Lucy, tilted her head, and looked at the dust. 
    ‘Alright,’ moaned Lucy, understanding that her job at the moment
    was to clean up the mess she had caused.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Shelandragh sat down on the lounge and
    picked up a tome from the table beside the lounge, seemingly looking
    through it.  She looked up at Lucy who was staring at her. 
    ‘Well.  Get to it.’ She said, waving her hand towards the
    mess.  Lucy, reluctantly, got down on her knees and started
    sweeping up the dirt.  When she had finished, she emptied the
    dust into the pile of ashes in the fireplace.  Shelandragh
    stopped reading the book she was holding, and placed it on the
    table.  She looked sternly at Lucy.  ‘Lucy Potter. 
    What, may I ask, were you possibly thinking of in casting that
    spell.  You know that it is not in our curriculum until next
    year.’  ‘Yes, Shelandragh.  I know.  But I
    borrowed one of your books over the weekend and was practicing it at
    home.  It was working, so I tried it again today.’  ‘I
    see,’ replied Shelandragh.  ‘Were there any other spells
    that you tried?’  ‘Uh, mm.  Ah no,’ replied Lucy,
    after much stuttering, which suggested to Shelandragh that her young
    pupil was not being quite so honest.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Shelandragh, although silently pleased
    that Lucy was showing acceptable initiative, decided that she must
    caution her young friend.  ‘Lucy.  Magic is a
    responsibility.  It is not something to be tampered with, or
    taken lightly.  Many a foolhardy soul has perished believing
    himself or herself to be wiser than they actually were.  I would
    encourage you, young child.  Do not be one of them.  The
    spells I teach you, I teach you at the appropriate age.  You are
    still very young, being only 10.  But you have such maturity for
    such a young age, and so much talent, especially for a half-blood,
    that I am happy to teach you things beyond your normal years.  I
    knew a wizard, once.  Dumbledore was his name.  Many a tale
    he shared with me about the affairs of life and the things he had
    seen.  Great and powerful things.  But one thing he did
    share with me was the tale of Mallintor.  Mallintor was a master
    of Magic.  At 30 he was flowing in the craft, respected by all
    the good – feared by all the bad.  But Mallintor, one day, bit
    off more than he could chew.  He had been challenged by a
    supposed friend to defeat a dark wizard.  A wizard whose name
    was cloaked with fear and darkness.  Mallintor, in the pride of
    his youth and prowess, had accepted the challenge.  But he was
    not, so he had assumed, ready for the encounter.  His training
    had been appropriate.  His talent unmistakable.  But one
    thing cost him.  Cost him greatly.  Mallintor had become
    arrogant and believed that he could defeat any opponent.  No
    matter how great they claimed to be.  And so he had tackled this
    dark lord, but had come up short.  The evil one had captured him
    and cast a spell which deprived Mallintor of his power.  The
    dark one had then let him go.  He had called him a trifle, a
    thing of no consequence.  Mallintor had been humiliated. 
    Reduced to what, for him, was the disastrous life of a muggles. 
    And all of this because Mallintor believed he was something more than
    he was.  Pride had been the end of him.’  Lucy listened
    to the words, her young mind contemplating the fate of Mallintor, and
    at that moment resolutely deciding that such would not be her fate. 
    Whatever else, she would exercise caution, and be prepared for
    whatever life threw at her.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘So you see, young Lucy,’ continued
    Shelandragh.  ‘You need to have a strong grip – a firm
    understanding – on your real capabilities.  To think more of
    yourself.  To go beyond your actual talents and what you have in
    that heart of yours, is to suffer the fate of Mallintor.  And
    that fate I would not wish on a child such as yourself, with all your
    talent.’  Lucy nodded again at her teacher’s words.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Shelandragh rose to her feet. 
    ‘Well, young Lucy.  We have finished today’s lesson.  I
    was going to share one other thing with you, but your little incident
    has changed that plan.  Tomorrow, from 3 till 4, I will expect
    you as usual.  I will be in Cooma in the morning, so don’t
    come around expecting me early in the day.  But I will be back
    in time for our lesson.  Well, be off with you,’ said
    Shelandragh, shooing her young student out the door.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Shelandragh watched her go up the
    pathway, up to the road, crossing over, and soon coming to the dirt
    track which led the back-road to Chakola.  Usually, Caroline
    came and collected her in her car, but Lucy had stated quite often
    she did not mind the long walk back to Chakola, and now knowing all
    the residents along the back road, she was quite safe in her trip. 
    Shelandragh admired such determination from someone so young. 
    But she also thought of Mallintor and wondered if life would ever
    bring any such challenge to her young pupil.  She hoped not. 
    She hoped most definitely not.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy walked along the road, heading
    towards her home at Chakola.  The walk would take her probably 2
    to 3 hours, but she didn’t mind.  She liked walking, seeing
    the countryside, and seeing the sheep and cattle which littered the
    fields on the back road to Chakola.  There were a number of
    gates which she had to pass, which she usually managed to open, but
    sometimes simply climbed over.  Although it was summer, and
    daylight saving time had began, meaning extended daylight, the light
    would gradually diminish as she neared home.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Quite a while later, coming over the
    last sheep-proof gate, she walked down the dirt track between the
    place she knew of as home.  Old man Barry, who lived in the old
    home opposite hers waved to her as she opened the gate to her home. 
    She liked the Old man.  His oldest son had the same name as her
    father, David.  David worked on the farmstead of Chakola,
    although his wife lived up in Canberra.  David’s children,
    Madalene, Jayden and Georgia, came down to the farm often with their
    mother, Brigid.  Those three were Lucy’s best friends in the
    whole world.  So much in fact did they get along that Madalene,
    at her confirmation, had taken Lucy’s own name in her honour. 
    The four of them played all the time when they were at the
    farmstead.  In fact, Lucy’s home was being rented by her
    mother Caroline from David who was the owner.  It was an old
    home, which had been brought down from Sydney on a truck.  It
    was built adjoining an old school-hall, which had been the school for
    the Chakola area years ago.  And at the end of the school hall
    were extra rooms which had been added by David and Barry.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Just down from the homes was the
    ‘Newmerella’ river.  It flowed most of the time, but
    droughts in their region were a factor of life, and it often was not
    flowing, with little water to be pumped onto the fields.  David
    often bemoaned this, as he did the life of a farmer, but it was the
    lifestyle he liked.  It suited him and his personality, and he
    did not really want to trade it for another.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Across from the river were some of the
    main fields were David worked, as well as a couple of other
    farmsteads – one being neighbours, the other belonging to David’s
    family.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Coming in through the door, Lucy was
    pleasantly surprised to see her mother standing before the fire,
    stoking the burning wood, talking with Madalene, Georgia and Jayden
    who were seated on the old tatty blue lounge.  ‘Lucy,’
    yelled Jayden, pleased to see his friend.  Georgia got up and
    started showing Lucy some shells that the three of them had collected
    at the seashore were they had been that afternoon.  Lucy had
    forgotten about the trip, which she had been asked to attend, but she
    had politely declined, not wanting to miss her lesson that day. 
    Magic was now becoming very important to her, and she took it
    seriously now.  Quite seriously.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    She looked over at Madalene.  ‘How
    was the sea?’  ‘About the same.  We went to Tathra last
    year and hunted for some prawns along the coast then, as we did again
    today.  There weren’t many today, but it was fun.’ 
    ‘Yeah, it was okay,’ said Jayden.  ‘Were have you been,
    Lucy?’ asked Georgia, in the faint voice she occasionally spoke
    with.  ‘We told you before, Georgie.’ Said Jayden. 
    Your always forgetting.’  ‘She is not,’ said Madalene,
    defending her younger sister.  Jayden and Georgia were still of
    an age in which they fought a lot.  Madalene, as belied her
    character in general, had begun maturing, and was starting to become
    a mature young lady.  ‘I have been at Shelandragh’s,
    Georgia.  It was my lesson today.’  ‘Go on, cast a
    spell,’ said Jayden.  ‘You probably want to, anyway,’ said
    Madalene, agreeing with her brother.  Lucy looked at her mother,
    who nodded consent.  Lucy looked around the room and spotted Tom
    the cat, sitting near the fireplace, all curled up and happily
    dozing.  Caroline looked at Lucy and were she was looking, and
    then firmly said, ‘No, Lucy.  Not the cat.’  Lucy
    shrugged, and continued surveying the room.  She spied an old
    book on the table and asked Jayden to place it on the floor. 
    Jayden did as asked, and Lucy, looking at it, concentrated and pulled
    at her wand.  After a few moments she said ‘Hover’, and, the
    spell unfolding, the book started rising up from the floor, a metre
    or so.  The three children started laughing, and Jayden grabbed
    the book.  ‘That was cool,’ said Georgia in her faint
    voice.  ‘You be careful with that spell,’ said Caroline,
    alarmed at the possible mischief her daughter could get into with
    such powers.  ‘Yes mother.  I’ll be careful,’ replied
    Lucy.  ‘Come on.  Let’s go outside,’ she said to the
    others, and they all followed her out the front door.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    The rest of the afternoon was filled
    with much yelling and shouting of the word ‘hover’, although only
    Lucy’s use of the word brought the others desired affect.  But
    of that afternoon, much fun was had by the assembled children, and as
    Lucy lay in her bed that night, looking up at the dark ceiling, she
    smiled at the adventurous day she had had, wondering what new treat
    the morning would bring her.
    
    
    
    
    Chapter Two
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘The Malevolent Grimlock’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Grimlock stumbled along the dirt track,
    hastening as quickly as he could manage, given the limp from his bad
    leg.  Tonight, the night of nights, the dark lord would speak
    with him.  His master, lord Darvanius, would instruct him of his
    new plan.  A plan he had recently brought to the surface. 
    Grimlock thought about Voldemort, who Darvanius often pushed to and
    fro in his plans.  Voldemort was, in the end, easy to use under
    Darvanius’ dark might.  Grimlock realized that he too served
    Darvanius’, much in the way Voldemort did so.  But he liked to
    think that perhaps he had more say in how he carried out his work
    under Darvanius’ instructions.  But he did not think that
    often.  Not often.  He felt the shadow of the dark lord
    upon him often, always there, silently eating away at him. 
    Rebuking him, and then, quite contrarily, encouraging him.  But
    all the time, so Grimlock felt, manipulating him towards the grand
    purpose Darvanius sought.  That much he did not like, but
    nevertheless he served his dark lord, eager for the reward that
    Darvanius often spoke of and said, one day, he would reward him with.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Grimlock entered his small shack,
    nestled in the western hills of Tasmania, hidden from all.  This
    was his private place – his dark abode.  He resided, usually,
    in Hobart, were he had a small shop dedicated to the dark arts. 
    ‘The Dragon’s Lair’, he had called it, those many years ago
    when the shop opened.  Business had been slow at first, the
    community still fearing magic somewhat in those days, but gradually
    changing their attitudes.  But now, darkness was becoming
    popular – ever so popular.  To his great disdain, magic now
    had white witches and white magic.  Magicians dedicated to
    purity and goodness.  In his store, he held a number of such
    books, but they were only for show.  Primarily designed to ward
    of suspicious authorities, especially the ever curious ministry of
    magic, who occasionally monitored his affairs.  The Canberra
    bureau of the ministry operated under the sanction of the English
    ministry, a tradition established many years ago.  They had
    operatives in most of the major cities, including Hobart, and he knew
    the regular fellow from the ministry who visited his store. 
    Darren Merryweather – a dedicated wizard of the light.  He
    would browse the Dragon’s Lair from time to time, perhaps, so
    Grimlock thought, suspicious about the rumours in the community that
    Grimlock also sold, alongside the traditional fare, tomes of dark
    magic.  Forbidden, evil spells.  Darren occasionally
    inquired of Grimlock wether he had such books for sale, stating a
    curiousity on the matter, but Grimlock always denied any such books,
    claiming perfect innocence.  He knew that Darren probably did
    not believe him, but he would never betray himself.  He would
    keep his secret, and go on with the charade that had developed.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    He looked at the clock on the wall. 
    5.35 pm.  Darvanius would summon him around 9.00 pm – a usual
    time.  The Dark Lord would enter his room through his spirit
    guide and speak with Grimlock, instructing him on his new purposes. 
    Before then he would prepare his nightly meal, and study some of his
    texts he had brought with him from Hobart.  And he would wait –
    anxiously wait – anticipating the new directives from his dark
    master.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘So, Darren.  He remains
    insistent that he has no such books.  No such knowledge of the
    dark arts?’  ‘Yes, Alfric.  He maintains this
    position.  I have heard rumours and innuendo from many wizards
    and witches in Hobart and throughout Tasmania that he has been
    involved with shady gatherings and questionable activities.  But
    so far there is nothing substantial to justify any further
    investigation.  Perhaps, like a number of us, he has an interest
    in the dark side.  A curiousity.  A fascination.  But
    perhaps that is all that it is.  He has never hinted to me
    personally that he has any such knowledge, which is probably not
    true.  But he may simply be embarrassed about any such
    involvement, not wishing for his reputation to be sullied.’ 
    ‘Yes,’ said Alfric.  ‘That is what the ministry has
    generally concluded.  At this stage, then, we will not proceed
    with the suggested detailed investigation.  Keep your eye on
    him, though.  But keep your distance as well.  We do not
    want your position with the ministry known about.  You are one
    of only three special agents doing this work in Australia, and they
    are not easy to train.  We can not afford your cover to be
    blown.’  ‘Yes, I understand, Alfric.  In the brief you
    mailed me, you stated that my work in Hobart was nearly complete. 
    What is this new mission you have been hinting at?’  ‘Ah
    yes.  Shelandragh May and the half-blood Lucy Potter.’ 
    ‘Lucy Potter! Said Darren, the name catching his attention. 
    ‘Any relation to the English lad?’  ‘Yes, actually. 
    His cousin.  Few know of that, so keep it to yourself.  You
    will need to know because of your next mission, but the information
    is privy to only the top hierarchy in the ministry of magic.’ 
    ‘I understand.  What is the mission?’  ‘Shelandragh
    regularly visits us here in Canberra.  She has been keeping
    Lucy’s progress in mind in her reports, and we feel it is time for
    Lucy to have another mentor in her progress.  She, for a
    half-blood, is showing tremendous talent and potential – far more
    than any Shelandragh has ever heard or read about.’  ‘That
    family.  The Potters.  It probably runs in their blood.’ 
    ‘Deeply, I would say Darren.  And because of that, we of the
    ministry feel that Lucy has, given Shelandragh’s ongoing praises
    and comments, the potential to one day sit here in the ministry of
    magic.  The Half-bloods need a voice from their own community. 
    A beacon of light for them.  We feel young Lucy has the
    potential to fill such a role.  Your mission is to be, for now,
    indefinite in time.  Perhaps a number of months, but quite
    possibly a number of years may be involved.  We wish you to move
    down to Cooma and start associating with Shelandragh.  Introduce
    yourself to Lucy.  Get to know her.  Say you are an old
    friend of Shelandragh’s.  Children are innocent.  She
    will probably believe you.  And with the trust we expect you to
    maintain with her, teach her other lessons that Shelandragh does
    not.  Be the father figure she is missing.  Be an older
    friend – a confidante – someone she can look up to and respect. 
    I am sure that you will know what to say to her and to teach her as
    you get to know her and sound her out.  You are the most gifted
    in counselling amongst the ministry operatives, and these skills will
    be needed.  Remember, keep in mind you may be training a future
    member of the ministry of magic.  She will need to be
    responsible and up to the task if she is chosen.  So undertake,
    with the greatest of seriousness, the responsibilities the ministry
    is entrusting you with Darren.  In a sense, young Lucy’s
    future is in your hands.’  Darren nodded, taking those words
    in.  ‘When do I begin?’  ‘As soon as possible. 
    When you have wrapped up your business in Hobart, we expect you down
    in Cooma.  We have rented a room for you on the main street, and
    have had it furnished with appropriate furnishings and other articles
    of wizardry.  Touch it up as you see fit.  And please, take
    care with young Lucy.  She is a ‘Potter’ and as such we are
    in, in a sense, uncharted territory.  Now get to it.  I
    have other business to take care of, but I will see you off before
    you leave.  If you’ll excuse me then.’  Alfric got up
    from his lounge chair in the main lounge of the ministry of magic
    library, and exited the room.  Darren sat there for a few
    moments, contemplating his new mission.  He stood, walking over
    to the window, and looked out on the scenery of Canberra.  A new
    mission was always exciting, and this one, in particular, had the
    opportunity he had been waiting for.  To impart his knowledge
    and lore to another student.  That would be exciting – a grand
    new adventure for Mr Merryweather.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy looked at the river in front of
    her.  She was standing at the crossing of the Newmerella river
    in Chakola.  She was sitting on the edge of the concrete
    crossing, the river flowing underneath the crossing just a metre or
    so below.  She looked again at the words of the spell in the
    book of both new and ancient spells.  The spell was, like the
    hover spell, set for her next year in the curriculum, but she felt
    that as she had already ventured forth into new waters, she would
    continue as such.  The spell was known by two terms – ‘Hydros
    Conflagius’, as well as ‘Aqaurius tempest’.  It was, from
    reading the description, meant to cause a raging rush of water –
    water being the necessary ingredient for the spell to work.  She
    had prepared for the spell by following the necessary meditations
    before hand that these particular spells required, to summon a water
    spirit of the river, which would then act on her request.  The
    spells were from a book that Shelandragh herself had composed, and
    worked on slightly different aspects of magic then Shelandragh had
    been taught in her younger days in her training to be a witch. 
    They were animistic spells, spells involving land, water, fire, air
    and animal spirits.  Late yesterday she had performed a spell on
    a nearby willow tree, summoning the dryad of the tree to cause the
    branches to grow.  After she had performed and completed the
    spell, the dryad had complained a little, suggesting that the willow
    had been happy and did not really want the disturbance.  Lucy
    had dutifully apologized, but had decided to try another spell
    anyway, hopefully one which would not leave such a disturbance. 
    The water spells seemed appropriate, so she had decided on ‘Hydros
    Conflagius’, which had also been named ‘Aquarius Tempest’. 
    Speaking the words, the water spirit appeared.  She looked
    similar to the dryad she had seen yesterday, but wore a blue dress,
    covered in watery designs, rather than the green one the dryad had
    been dressed in.  She was around the same size as the dryad,
    about 30 centimetres in height, hovering, wings flapping, just before
    Lucy’s face.  The water spirit, known as a sprite, looked at
    Lucy, a frown on her face.  ‘HYDROS CONFLAGIUS?!!  
    You can not be serious young miss Potter.  Do you know just how
    much trouble I will get into with my father if I allow ‘Hydros
    Conflagius’.  Lucy smiled at the little frown on the sprites
    face.  ‘How did you know my name? Lucy asked the Sprite. 
    ‘Oh, we all know you, young Miss Lucy.  We live here and see
    you all the time.  We have heard David’s children say your
    name often and knew quite well who you were.’  Lucy’s
    curiousity had been aroused by that statement.  ‘Just how many
    of you spirits live here.’  ‘Now that would be telling,
    young Miss Potter.  Perhaps when you are older we may, may,
    share that knowledge with you.  That is if you stop trying to
    cast spells like, ugh, Hydros Conflagius.  Now, I must ask you
    again, are you serious?  I am required, if you insist, to honour
    your spell – such is our responsibility.  But we are allowed
    to ask, especially inexperienced spellcasters, if they are quite
    serious in their intents.  Do you know what this spell will
    do?’  ‘What?’ asked Lucy, quite innocently.  The
    sprite looked at Lucy from the corner of her eye, a wicked thought
    having developed in her head.  ‘Well, if you must know,
    THIS!!!’  Suddenly a large torrent of water rushed up from the
    river next to the crossing, saturating young Lucy, spinning her
    backwards.  She let out a moan, and got to her feet, squishing
    the water out of her saturated pullover.  ‘Oh, thank you very
    much, you little sprite!’  The sprite hovered up to Lucy’s
    face and smiled.  ‘Your welcome.  But let that be a
    warning to you,’ she said as she started flying away.  ‘Such
    spells are not to be trifled with.  There is no telling how much
    harm you could do.’  The sprite then flew to the surface of
    the water, disappearing below surface.  Lucy looked down at the
    water, but could not see were the sprite had gone.  ‘I guess
    that is her home,’ she thought to herself.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Picking up the book, wiping water of
    the leather-bound cover, she started trudging up to her home, just a
    hundred metres or so up the road.  Her mother was in Cooma at
    the moment, but Old Man Barry’s wife, Mary, who was looking after
    her in her mother’s absence, would surely have words with her. 
    But, perhaps not.  Mary was very kind to Lucy, treating her
    practically like her own daughter.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Mary looked at Lucy as she came in
    through the doorway.  ‘What have you done,’ she asked the
    drenched Lucy.  ‘Umm.  I fell in,’ said Lucy, too
    embarrassed to share the real story with her.  ‘A likely
    tale,’ replied Mary.  ‘You better take that jumper off and
    put on another top.  I’ll get a towel so you can dry up.’ 
    Mary walked into the hallway and grabbed a towel from the linen
    cupboard.  Handing it to Lucy, she motioned for Lucy to take her
    top off and dry down.  Lucy dutifully obeyed, and after a few
    moments of towelling herself off, put on one of her favourite
    T-shirts – the one with the Lion on the front.  ‘There,
    that’s better,’ said Mary, who had taken the towel and was now
    furiously drying Lucy’s her, much to her protestations.
    
    
    
    
    ‘Your mother should be home soon. 
    There is some pumpkin soup on the stove, bubbling away. 
    Brigid’s recipe, which I know you like.  It might be a good
    idea to fill up on some of that, which will help you warm up after
    your dip.’  Lucy nodded and made her way to the kitchen,
    taking a bowl, and ladled herself some soup.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Sitting at the Kitchen table, she
    looked through the spell book.  There were so many spells. 
    So many interesting and fascinating spells.  For the young Lucy,
    it was like a treasure-trove of delights.  Each new spell
    offering, potentially, a lifetime of use and delight. 
    Shelandragh had given the spell book back to her in yesterday’s
    lesson, after she had reclaimed it the previous day after the ‘hover’
    incident.  She had said that, although Lucy was still young, her
    initiative needed to be rewarded and had thus allowed her young
    student to exercise her curiousity and study the tome of spells. 
    That allowance had been echoed by her old friend visitor, Mr
    Merryweather, who she had introduced to young Lucy.  Mr
    Merryweather was an old acquaintance who she had known for years, so
    she said.  He looked, to Lucy, in his mid 30s, compared with the
    late 50s for Shelandragh, which made her question just how many years
    Shelandragh had in fact known the said Mr Merryweather.  She
    thought that perhaps he was a former student, like herself, which
    meant she could potentially have known him for as much as two decades
    or more.  This type of thinking, working out details and being
    exact, was so common to the thoughts of young Lucy Potter.  She
    was the most precise of children.  This reflected her upbringing
    at the hands of her mother Caroline.  Caroline had been raised
    in a very traditional English home, and had seen to it that she
    herself would look to Lucy’s education, given their frequent
    travels around Australia in their younger days.  From 7 Caroline
    had pushed her daughter to use her intellect as much as she could. 
    She felt, so she had shared with her daughter, that most public and
    private schooling failed to really foster the talent within their
    students in the individual way they all, so desperately, needed. 
    Caroline had made sure that Lucy would use her wits to the best of
    her abilities.  She had taught her English and Mathematics
    lessons from a very young age, even introducing the concept of
    ‘algebra’ to Lucy when she was only 8.  Lucy, herself, was
    an intelligent and sharp young lady, suited to her mother’s
    training.  But she did know, compared with David’s children,
    that she was just as bright as them, especially Madalene who she
    looked up to, but also recognized the training of her mother, who
    constantly challenged her mind to think in new and different ways. 
    ‘Lateral thinking’ was a term she was very used to from her
    mother.  This constant training had sharpened the mind of young
    Lucy.  What, perhaps, would have been just another above average
    student in school, had become an intelligent and analytical thinker
    under the adroit training of her mother.  Caroline had once
    remarked to Lucy, ‘Nature and Nurture are interesting factors,
    child of mine.  But, I feel, nurture is, in the way they
    currently look at it, still greatly underestimated.  We have so
    much talent that is left unused.  So apply yourself, young
    Lucy.  Apply yourself.’  Lucy, only now, was beginning to
    understand the meaning of nature and nurture in the way her mother
    used the words.  She had looked them up in the dictionary to try
    and understand and now felt she perhaps was beginning to grasp what
    her mother was speaking about.  And in her mother’s
    encouragement, she had taken to her talent at magic, even more so
    than in her younger years, something which both her mother and
    Shelandragh had noticed in the young child.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    As the afternoon passed, and evening
    approached, Lucy had read through much of the book of spells. 
    She had concentrated, although many of the words she had difficulty
    in understanding, but was grasping some of the basic spells. 
    Perhaps, again tomorrow, after her lesson, she would try a new
    spell.  And perhaps a water spell again, as she felt she might
    want to have another encounter with that sprite who had played that
    trick on her.  But whatever spell she chose, for now she had had
    enough of magic, and had turned on the television, noticing that it
    was nearly 6.00 pm.  ‘The Simpson’s were on at 6, and she
    hardly ever missed her favourite show.
    
    
    
    
    Chapter Three
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Lucy’s Lesson’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy, standing in front of
    Shelandragh’s home, near the Monaro highway in Bunyan, looked at
    the clouds over in the west.  They were grey, full of water, and
    near ready to burst.  Lightning had been striking in occasional
    outbursts.  And Thor had been belting out his thunderous cries,
    perhaps a sign of a new war with Loki.  Asatru was, to young
    Lucy, a most fascinating and interesting spirituality.  The gods
    of Scandinavia were most intriguing and fascinating to read about in
    the new fiction novel she had been reading, entitled ‘Born of
    Thunder’, which was about the god Thor and his wars with Loki. 
    Valhalla had been invaded by Loki.  Many gods had fallen in
    battle, and only Thor with his child to Valeriel, Kadros, had been
    able to withstand the wrath of Loki in the final battle.  Thor
    had used the horn of Antharius and summoned the shadow-storm, which
    could only be summoned once every 1000 years.  The storm’s
    dark malevolence had overcome Loki and his minions, and the dark ones
    had been defeated.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy had been contemplating, having
    read through some of Shelandragh’s work on spell-creating, a notion
    of ‘Shadow-Storm’ as a possible spell she may, when much older,
    perhaps work on bringing into the spirit realm.  She, although
    still young, thought on challenging herself and aiming high in life. 
    Why should it be, she felt, that only older wizards and witches be
    allowed the rights of spell-creating and seeking out their own dreams
    and ideas.  This apparent rule of magic, which Shelandragh had
    insisted upon, she in her young pride seemed apparently at odds with.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Lucy.  Come inside.  The
    storm is almost here.’  Lucy gave the grey clouds a final look
    and, in response to her teacher’s summoning, entered the home of
    ‘Minoxxia’ – Shelandargh’s abode.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Now Lucy.  What have you
    learned today?’  Lucy thought on Shelandragh’s question. 
    ‘Well, I understand that spells are based on energy. 
    Universal power within the spiritual and physical realms which, when
    we concentrate and become psychically aware, we can utilise for our
    own resources.’  Shelandragh nodded, pleased that her young
    pupil had been paying attention.  ‘And how do we become
    spiritually aware, young Lucy?’  Through connecting, in some
    manner, to the realm of the spirits.’  That is correct, young
    Lucy.  Let me elaborate on this.  For example, in the
    Christian religion, most Christians connect to Jesus spiritually, and
    often with saints and angels as well.  In the Jewish religion,
    Jews connect most often straight to God.  The same with the
    Muslims.  We witches and wizards often connect with various
    types of spirits.  Good witches and wizards often utilize
    spiritual energy which is available in the spiritual realm. 
    Sometimes through intelligent beings, often angels and other
    spiritual entities, often those who have passed on.  Dark
    wizards often connect with demons and the most bold and malicious try
    to connect with the dark lord himself.’  ‘You mean the
    Devil, don’t you?’  ‘Yes young Lucy.  The Devil. 
    That spirit is a most ancient and cunning of spirits, young Lucy. 
    I would caution you most strongly before you would ever contemplate
    tangling with the dark lord.  He has many servants and subjects
    and his motivations are rarely ever aimed at your good.  Most
    malicious and malevolent is the devil.  Other demonic forces
    constantly work throughout the spiritual realm, often at war with
    angelic beings and other divine forces.  This spiritual realm
    all flows from the source of our beginning – the creative energy of
    God.  God is, to wizards and witches, often very different in
    his approaches and affections than he is with religious people. 
    He is more honest and direct with some of us.  Sometimes
    brutally so.  A number of angelic beings have taught me that
    children of the main religions are God’s precious children – but
    that in many ways they remain that – still children.  Their
    growth and maturity is often stunted by overly judgmental beliefs,
    often great pride and division in their assemblies, and, although
    they often claim otherwise, an alarming amount of rejection and
    overlording towards those not within their assemblies.  They
    often fail to act in the love which they so often claim they do. 
    Yet, likewise, we witches and wizards are not perfect either.  I
    do believe that, regardless of the spiritual or religious condition
    of the soul in the heart of man, there are so many things common to
    each of us – our humanity – our love – our heart – which
    ultimately unites us all.  I feel, in the end, if we can exhibit
    grace, kindness and charm to all the children of Adam and Eve, this
    world could be such a better place.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy took in all of that information
    and asked her teacher a theological question.  ‘Are we all
    really descended from Adam and Eve?’  ‘A most interesting
    question, young Lucy.  I do not believe in evolution, but
    believe in creation.  That God created the universe and earth in
    6 days, resting on the 7th.  All of the confusion regarding this
    issue is from the work of the Serpent – the Devil – in his
    confusion he sows into humanity.  In the Garden of Eden, the
    Serpent tempted our ancient ancestors to partake of the forbidden
    fruit.  The fruit contained knowledge – forbidden knowledge –
    which will not give the kind of life you need.  People, in their
    minds, believe all sorts of things.  All sorts of justifications
    and views to justify their own beliefs and their own actions. 
    So much of this knowledge is knowledge of evil – and because people
    often vainly cling to these beliefs, they, as God told Adam and Eve,
    die in the day they partake of the knowledge of evil.  I am not,
    as you may have presumed, in my late 50s.  I am 378 years old. 
    I have lived so long and healthily because I understand much of the
    type of knowledge which the early patriarchs, Adam, Seth, Enosh and
    all the way down to Noah, partook of.  That is, knowledge of
    good.  Knowledge of goodness – the fruit of life – leads to
    life.  It heals the bones, restores the mind, and soothes our
    hearts.  Yet, in the world we live in, so many people are
    preoccupied with knowledge of evil and hatred.  In the spirit of
    love, compassion, kindness and truth, eternal life – partaking of
    the tree of life – can be granted by our God and creator.  So,
    to answer your question, wether or not we are from Adam and Eve or
    another group of families also created in the beginning, the truth of
    Adam and Eve and the fundamental lesson in the Garden of Eden remains
    ever true.  Learn this lesson Lucy – learn the lesson of
    goodness and life – and your years may be long indeed.’ 
    Lucy nodded.  Her teacher, so she felt, had just imparted a most
    important and fundamental lesson.  One which she believed in her
    heart would chart out her destiny in relation to God the creator –
    a being she knew not – but one who aroused her curiousity.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Elaine Belloc looked down through the
    portal of Zaphon, looking at the mind and heart of young Lucy Potter.
     Elaine, now 17 years old, who had just the year before been
    returned to her true parents, Michael and Martina Rothchild, after
    having been raised by the Belloc family.  Elaine had discovered,
    upon her being taken up to heaven by the Archangel Raguel, that her
    parents were actually Angelic beings – Seraphim – from the Realm
    of Eternity.  Elaine had been welcomed to heaven, a place she
    was to be taught lessons for a number of years for her future
    responsibilities on planet earth.  She had been shown a number
    of places around the Realm of Eternity, seeing the major keeps of
    Zaphora, Terraphora, and the other realms.  Now she studied the
    Torah of the Seraphim in Zaphon library.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    At one end of the library was the
    ‘viewing portal’ which allowed the viewer to see people and lives
    being lived on planet earth.  With this portal she had often
    looked at her parents in their everyday lives, watching them with
    sincerity, devotion and love.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    The angel Raguel had suggested she seek
    out the child Lucy Potter, cousin of Harry who had been becoming
    popular in England, as the child had a special place in the heart of
    God and was a unique daughter of destiny.  Raguel had shared
    with her that Lucy would become a close friend of herself upon
    Elaine’s return to earth.  And because of this, Raguel had
    shown her how to view Lucy through the portal, and encouraged her to
    keep her eye on Lucy throughout the next few years.
    
    
    
    
    Elaine’s main concern was the servant
    of Darvanius – Grimlock – who she had been watching.  He,
    from the plans she had become aware of, was intending to move to
    Cooma to establish himself there and, it would seem, attempt to
    corrupt the young Lucy.  Elaine had asked Raguel what, if
    anything, she could possible do to thwart Grimlock’s agenda. 
    He had responded that the host of heaven, the angels of eternity,
    worked in humanity accomplishing God’s purposes and objectives. 
    He would, at times, pay special attention to particular people, and
    at others let destiny and life settle affairs.  He would
    intervene often – and often he would leave a situation alone to see
    how it would resolve itself.  But, so Raguel had maintained, if
    Elaine consistently sought out their Father regarding the life of
    young Lucy, he would intervene and respond to her requests in the way
    only God the eternal being of life could do so.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Elaine had gone to the throneroom of
    Zaphon and spoken to the eternal flame burning upon the throneroom. 
    She had spoken nervously.  ‘Father.  God.  What will
    be with Lucy Potter?  The girl in Australia?  Harry’s
    cousin?’  Silence had responded to her for a number of
    moments, after which the eternal spirit of life responded. 
    ‘Dear Elaine.  Life has, in some ways, a mystery to it. 
    Plans can be made, and often, but not always, come to pass. 
    Destiny – an eternal spirit, being one of the endless of the 7
    eternal children – influences and crafts out lives for many humans
    and angels alike.  Her child, Fate, also passionately seeks
    grand culminations and climaxes to events of life.  To often
    bring things to a grand and glorious conclusion.  Fates aunt,
    Death, often has the occasional suggestion, seeking resolutions to
    conflicts, often most passionately, yet often in the quiet and gentle
    way which the daughter of life often seeks to do.  These
    children – the eternals – have their hand on young Lucy, so I
    would encourage you to have no fear for young Lucy, dear
    grand-daughter.  Have no fear for her.’  The voice of
    eternity had then gone silent.  Lucy had found the answer, in
    some ways, to her question.  And, in summation, she sensed that
    God had simply told her, as perhaps so many had been told, to have a
    little faith.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    A little later, the dreamlord, one of
    the 70 eternals, approached young Lucy.  She had seen him in
    Zaphon from time to time and had wondered who he was.  She had
    known his name was Daniel, yet he did not seem the same as the others
    of the angels.  And then Raguel had told her that Daniel was one
    of the children of God – the eternals – who existed prior to the
    angels.  Who existed in a ‘heaven’ they had never been to or
    seen, yet who they, the angels of eternity, had known for many years
    as those eternal beings who watched over the angels.  ‘Elaine. 
    Daughter of Eve.  I would have words, if you are currently not
    otherwise occupied.’  ‘Yes, Daniel.  Please, sit down. 
    Elaine offered him the seat next to herself in the library of
    Zaphon.   Daniel began speaking.  ‘So, Elaine. 
    Talk to me.  Explain yourself.  What is in your heart. 
    Your head.  Why do you do what you do?  Why do you ask the
    questions you ask?  Why do you think the way you think? 
    Who are you in your heart?  Are you Elaine Belloc, daughter of
    the Archangel, or are you something greater?  Something grand
    and eternal?  Someone who is beyond reproach?  Infallible
    and Almighty?’  ‘What is that supposed to mean? asked
    Elaine, most annoyed at the tone in the query.  ‘Who are you
    that I should answer to you?’  ‘Dearest Elaine, who are you
    that you should ask me that question when I in fact asked you
    questions first.  Or is hostility to a gentle inquiry your first
    response to everything.  Perhaps, I would suggest, a little
    pride lies in thine heart.  A little pride in being the daughter
    of Michael.  Could I be, perhaps, correct in such a statement?’ 
    Elaine softened.  ‘Well, yes, Daniel.  Point taken. 
    I guess perhaps living here in Zaphon has gone to my head a little.’ 
    Daniel smiled.  ‘Well,’ he said, looking at her in a most
    strange manner.  ‘Well what? Asked Elaine, a little perplexed
    by the dream lord.  ‘Are you going to answer the question? 
    Or have I offended thine heart, for which, if I have, I must
    apologize – even if in word only, for as it is, the heart is such a
    cryptic maze of emotion and intensity.  Even, sometimes, in the
    most frozen and complex of lives.’  Elaine looked at him, a
    little puzzled.  ‘You’ve lost me, Daniel.’  ‘Oh
    well.  Never mind.  Perhaps, instead of a dialogue most
    irreconcilable with thine current preoccupations, we have a game of
    Chulara.  Have you been taught it?’  ‘No.  But,
    alright.  If you will teach me the rules.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    The daughter of Michael and the eternal
    dream lord, changing seats in the library, began a game of the oldest
    of strategic games within the Realm of Eternity.  Having gone
    through the rules, and the game have progressed for a little while,
    Daniel spoke.  ‘Lucy is a most intense and intelligent young
    lady, Elaine.  My sister, Destiny, has crafted many ideas and
    thoughts out for this child.  Father will not always reveal the
    work he does.  Often he will not speak at all, but remain in his
    mysterious self, a life he has chosen or perhaps, given our current
    level of understanding and behaviour on a communal average,
    understood that speaking with us more than necessary is not needed at
    our present age.  But of course, this is speculation.  In
    an eternal life, it would seem we have all eternity before us to
    understand and comprehend the spirit and nature of our eternal
    father.  But, as I assume he told yourself, have faith in young
    Lucy.  She will turn out alright.  Those opponents of hers,
    I am sure, will not prevail.  Her spirit – her love – will
    see her course her way through life to what she needs to be and
    become for herself and those around her.  I have known Lucy for
    so long now, which may surprise you, but I would tell you of that
    another time.  Suffice to say that I have faith in Lucy. 
    Life, strange as it may seem, often ultimately turns out for the
    best.’  Elaine looked at Daniel, then looked down at the
    Chulara board.  ‘I suppose, Dream Lord.  I suppose.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy Potter sat in Centennial park, in
    the centre of Cooma, alongside David’s daughter Madalene. 
    Jayden and Georgia, along with Brigid, were up the road a little,
    swimming at the town pool.  David had just given them a box of
    hot chips which they were steadily making their way through, drinking
    coke as well.  David sat with his cousin, Houston, on a park
    bench a little away from Lucy and Madalene.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Lucy.  I have lived at Chakola
    all my life and have noticed something a little strange. 
    Shelandragh, ever since I can remember, never seems to have aged. 
    She seems the same she has always been.  Has she ever said
    anything to you about this?’  Lucy stopped munching on her
    chips, took a drink of coke, and looked at her best friend
    Madalene.’  ‘It’s a secret of life, Madalene.  A
    secret of life.  It is plain and most obvious to everyone,
    ultimately.  But most hidden and cryptic in some ways as well. 
    Yet, I think, all things will fall into place.’  Madalene
    looked at her strangely.  ‘What the heck do you mean, Lucy?’ 
    ‘Oh, I’m just being dramatic Madalene.  Something
    Shelandragh emphasized to me often embellishes conversations.’ 
    Madalene nodded, used to hearing various lessons which Lucy passed on
    from her teacher.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Did you see last night’s episode
    of the Simpsons?’  Asked Lucy.  Madalene smiled. 
    ‘Yes, it was funny.  I loved the bit were God showed to Homer
    Jesus swinging on a swing.’  Lucy grinned a little. 
    ‘Yes, that bit was funny.  God is really big, and Jesus is
    normal size.’  ‘But you never see his face.’  Said
    Madalene.  Lucy nodded.  ‘Very weird, Maddy.  Very
    weird.  Homer was lucky, though.  But, of course, it was
    just a dream.  Just a dream.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    The two of them munched on their chips,
    continued drinking coke, and the afternoon, as afternoons, usually
    and most regularly do, undertook their steady work of preparing for
    the evening.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Chapter Four
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Mr Merryweather’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘This, Miss Lucy, is Mr Darren
    Merryweather.  He is an old acquaintance of mine which I have
    known for a number of years now.’  ‘Pleased to meet you,
    young lady,’ said Mr Merryweather, offering her his hand. 
    Lucy shook it, and sat down on the seat opposite were Shelandragh and
    Darren were sitting.  ‘Miss Potter.  I am from Canberra,
    were I have lived a number of years, undertaking various
    responsibilities in magical fields,’ began Mr Merryweather. 
    ‘Shelandragh has asked that I acquaint myself with you to, in a
    sense, monitor your progress in the field of magic.  Apparently,
    although I could not possibly hope to understand why, yet apparently
    she respects my opinions on the issue of the magical arts.  So,
    dear young lady, if you would not object, I will sit in on your
    lesson today, silently observing.  Do you mind this?’ 
    Lucy shook her head.  ‘That is ok, Mr Merryweather.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Darren looked at Shelandragh who took
    one of the books from the pile of magical books, and opened it up. 
    ‘Lucy.  You have been taught a number of spells, mixing of
    reagents, spell preparation techniques, yet it has not escaped my
    attention that on the fundamental basics underlying the craft,
    certain things perhaps need explaining.  I spoke to you the
    other day regarding spiritual energies available in the spiritual
    realm.  It is from this realm which we draw the power to enable
    our spells purposes to be achieved.  This spiritual energy is,
    in many ways, very similar to the concept of ‘the force’ which is
    part of the Star Wars movies, of which I am sure you are familiar.’ 
    Lucy nodded, as she had seen Star Wars often.  ‘As witches,
    with our connections to this realm, we are able to intuitively draw
    upon certain spiritual energies and utilise them for our own
    purposes.  There is a movie featuring Shirley Maclaine which has
    a scene in which she becomes spiritually alive and her spirit voyages
    out from her body.  This is one aspect which many psychics are
    capable of, with experience and training, be able to achieve. 
    My own craft, currently focusing around animistic spirituality, works
    a little differently.  It is in the mind.  The power of the
    mind.  It is done by sensing, within your body and spirit, the
    type or kind of spiritual energy you wish to attract to yourself and
    to utilise for the purposes you desire to achieve.  It is done
    by, from your spirit within, something like magnetic energy being
    focused from your mind, drawing spiritual energy to yourself. 
    And you can choose any type of spiritual energy your mind can
    possibly conceive of.  There is no limit.  However, this
    spiritual energy needs to be created.  Each human being is
    capable of creating this spiritual energy with their thoughts, and in
    fact do so.  What is called an aura reflects the spiritual
    patterns which have developed throughout our experiences in life. 
    Most people have a basic aura, but many have developed one through
    intense life experience.  This power of creativity is in the
    heart of each human and angel – it is born from the creative spirit
    which the ultimate creator birthed each of us with.  The first
    chapter of Genesis explains our nature being based on the creator and
    angelic beings, thus we also can partake of this energy, create this
    energy, and, with experience and persistence, utilise it for our own
    purposes.  Now, this energy can be created by yourself in
    endless patterns.  In the spiritual realm there are virtually
    infinite spiritual patterns available to us and, of course, we can
    create our own spiritual energy with our thoughts, beliefs, actions
    and words.  This aura within and without us – our spiritual
    being – comes forth from the central mind within – the soul, our
    true identity – which brings forth everything we hope for and
    believe in.’  Lucy nodded at all of that new information.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Mr Merryweather spoke up.  ‘Now,
    Lucy.  This energy and its power and capabilities can and often
    are abused greatly by workers of the dark arts.  They, very
    often, work out on their objective of conquest and domination. 
    In the revelation of John, the false prophet works constantly within
    this idea, bringing forth fire from heaven with the power of the
    magic – the dark magic – that he has created.  Because of
    this, we who are gifted with the ability to utilise spiritual energy
    must always be alert.  So much harm and damage can be done, and
    has been done, by those whose wishes for humanity are not
    necessarily, and often opposed, to humanities best interests. 
    It is a grave and important responsibility, young Lucy.  With
    the flame of energy born within you, you must act responsibly,
    maturely and consistently.  The darkness which is alive in the
    world often seeks to corrupt and destroy those who are often known as
    ‘Lightworkers’ and children of light.  Wizards and witches
    who are not motivated by the power of the dark, but whose hope and
    belief is in goodness and love.  I hope you can understand and
    appreciate the gravity and importance of this fundamental lesson on
    spiritual energy and the law of life.’  Lucy, again, nodded. 
    This lesson was very heavy, even for young Lucy.  But she knew
    that, as her mother had constantly taught her, accepting the harder
    things in life – accepting responsibility – matured the soul and
    enabled one to accomplish the things in life which needed to be
    accomplished.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Grimlock stood in front of his new
    storefront, the Dragon’s lair, which he had just finished
    renovating in Cooma in the state of New South Wales, south of
    Canberra.  His master and lord, the dark one Darvanius, had
    given him his new agenda.  The young witch, Lucy Potter, was to
    be persuaded to come over to darkness.  To join the minions of
    the netherworld in their goal – to rid the world of the false
    promises of so called children of light.  This goal of Darvanius
    was not new.  It was ancient.  As ancient as the halls of
    eternity.  Darvanius was the Archangel Saruviel in human form,
    although he was not aware of that fact.   He was the 7th
    born of the male Seraphim angels of the Realm of Eternity.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Prior to mankind’s creation, Saruviel
    had Fought the Archangel Michael and the heavenly host most
    aggressively and passionately in his attempt to establish, what he
    knew in his heart, was the true law of life – the true law of
    freedom.  In those actions, he had justified much behaviour
    which his eternal Father had rebuked him for.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Now, as the dark lord Darvanius, who
    had been uniting the divided Christian church, his secret agenda –
    his hidden agenda – was to ultimately bring his own plan and
    ideology to dominate the world stage.  This plan rose up in his
    heart from his youth.  It seemed that the seed the Archangel
    Saruviel had sown all those years ago in the Realm of Eternity was
    bearing fruit now in the universal realm.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    And now, in attempting to achieve his
    objective, the dark lord was utilising one of his pawns – the
    malevolent Grimlock – to achieve his purposes with the cousin of
    what was becoming a most feared opponent – the wizard Harry Potter.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    In Lucy Potter, he would achieve his
    dark and glorious ambition.  He would claim the title – the
    power – the moniker – of divine monarch of the world.  The
    King, as it were, the first and most important and glorious King –
    of a united humanity.  In the pursuit of this goal he would be
    relentless.  He would not tire, not be persuaded to give up,
    never rest, until he had achieved all and everything that he desired
    to achieve.  And in that destiny he planned for himself, the
    young miss Lucy Potter could, he felt, play a most significant and
    useful role.  A most significant role indeed.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Because of this, Grimlock served the
    dark lord Darvanius.  He worked under his authority to achieve
    his agendas as, so Grimlock had been often told, his reward would one
    day be given.  One day he would be given the justice he deserved
    for his fidelity to his dark master.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy Potter was to be corrupted. 
    To be persuaded to come over to the power of darkness – the power
    of wrath – the power of passion and intensity – the dark magic. 
    In this magic Grimlock took much and great delight.  It
    strengthened him, when little else gave him comfort.  It
    delighted his mind and heart with wicked and dark ideas.  Ideas
    which gave him much malevolent and sensual pleasure.  Yet
    Grimlock, in all the time had been training in the dark magic under
    Darvanius guidance, had noted something.  He had been attracted
    to the dark because of the power it offered, but in Darvanius he had
    found, while most definitely and continually a pawn of the dark
    master, yet found a quite consolation to some of his life’s
    difficulties.  Darvanius maintained, although he reluctantly
    used such terminology as it confused him with his opponents, yet he
    continually maintained to Grimlock that his agenda – his purpose –
    his goal – was not motivated by evil.  Not motivated toward
    harm, chaos and destruction.  These were, so he had shared with
    Grimlock, the domain of the darkest lord of all – the fallen Satan,
    with whom he had at one time encountered.  ‘Satan is the evil
    one, Grimlock.  His goals are in no way moral or intended
    towards the good of others.  Between him and myself there is a
    distinction.  A clear and eternal distinction.  Make no
    mistake of that fact, Grimlock.  For if you should ever be
    tempted to seek out the darkest of the lords of evil, my wrath you
    may suffer.  And my punishment towards evildoers is beyond the
    evil of the dark lord himself.  Forget that not Grimlock. 
    Forget that not.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy sat at the kitchen table in her
    home, the schoolhouse, of Chakola.  The textbook which
    Shelandragh had given her that afternoon had been interesting
    reading.  A little predictable, in many ways, in the lessons it
    was teaching regarding ethics in witchcraft.  Lucy understood
    clearly her responsibility, now, but a part of her heart yearned to,
    perhaps, just be a little bit rebellious.  To go out and do her
    own thing in the magical realm, regardless of the cautions of her
    teachers.  She had, for the last hour, been trying to understand
    the concept of spell-creation and the necessary mind processes to
    create spiritual energy in the magical realm.  She had listened
    intently to Shelandragh’s word’s, and had been thinking them over
    in the last few hours.  The spell she had thought about creating
    before, the one which had been birthed from the Asatru novel ‘Born
    of Thunder’ – the idea of the spell ‘Shadow Storm’.  She
    had understood from various spell texts she had been studying that
    the ‘Shadow Realm’ was a place between the netherworld and her
    world, almost akin to the concept of ‘Limbo’ or ‘Purgatory’. 
    Perhaps, she thought, she may try to seek out the spiritual energy
    available in the Shadow Realm, and utilise it for the creation of the
    ‘Shadow Storm’ spell.  At this stage she was not quite sure
    how she would achieve this result, but with persistence and patience
    she felt she may be able to achieve, hopefully, some interesting
    results.  The only spells she knew to connect to the Shadow
    Realm were ‘Shados’, also known as the Shadow Life, as well as
    ‘Shados Redux’, which, apparently, returned something or someone
    who had been cast into the Shadow Realm to the physical realm. 
    She had, in coming up with a name for the Shadow Storm spell in the
    ancient spellcasting language, had researched an ancient character
    which the book of spells containing ‘Shados’ and ‘Shados Redux’
    had been connected to.  An ancient wizard, who had first
    connected to what he later called the Shadow Realm, Shadorius, seemed
    to be an appropriate person to name the spell after in the
    spellcasting language.  She, having recalled the earlier water
    spell she had cast, known as Hydros Conflagius and Aquarius Tempest,
    had decided to name the spell using part of the name of one of these
    spells, deciding that ‘Tempest’ seemed the best choice.  So
    the spell which she would bring into existence would be ‘Shadorius
    Tempest’.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    She had been, in thinking about how to
    bring the spell into being, first studied the techniques for casting
    ‘Shados’ and ‘Shados Redux’ and then began studying ‘Aquarius
    Tempest’.  Perhaps it may be as simple a process as combining
    aspects of the ‘Shados’ spell, with the ‘Tempest’ part of
    ‘Aquarius Tempest’, that could achieve success in birthing the
    spell into existence.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Having taken a notebook she began
    writing down the process for the ‘Shados’ spell, as well as, as
    best as she could understand, the ‘Tempest’ aspect of the
    ‘Aquarius Tempest’ spell.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Of course, when she had the procedure
    for casting the spell worked out, it still seemed that it would
    require the necessary magical energy.  This, for young Lucy, was
    still a bit problematic, as she had not yet quite grasped everything
    Shelandragh and Darren had explained to her.  But she would
    think this over and persist, as her mother constantly encouraged her
    to.  Perhaps in a year or so, with some further questions to her
    teacher, she may understand some of the basics of spell creation. 
    Perhaps then she would have what was required to bring her vision
    into reality.  Perhaps then.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Madalene, sitting on the lounge in the
    mainroom of her families home in Calwell in Canberra, looked over at
    her brother as he was watching television.  Jayden was intently
    watching the ‘Ben 10’ cartoon, something which he had grown to
    like.  Madalene thought ‘Ben 10’ was a bit young for herself
    now, preferring ‘Home and Away’ and some of the comedies on
    television to what she thought was now ‘Kid’s stuff’.  She
    wondered if Jayden would also grow out of the cartoons.  She
    didn’t really care, though.  Kids liked cartoons.  That
    was normal for everyone.  But Madalene, looking at young Lucy,
    wondered if there were perhaps more important things in life. 
    Subjects which gave life a greater intensity.  A greater
    passion.  Magic seemed interesting to Madalene.  But she
    knew magic did not run in her family.  And, apparently, it was
    extremely rare for a child to develop the craft unless one of her
    parents had the gift.  Because of that she was a little jealous
    of her friend Lucy, envious of the talents and gifts that seemed to
    have been given to her.  Madalene, having take Lucy’s name in
    confirmation at her church, had sat in church one night, while her
    parents were outside talking with other members in the family after
    the baptism of her new cousin Amelia, had prayed to God asking him if
    she could also be given the gifts that Lucy had been given. 
    That prayer had been a while ago and nothing had really happened in
    response so far.  But, strangely, she had noticed a few things –
    strange things – which had been happening around her.  She had
    often felt shivers along her legs and her arms.  And she thought
    that she had, a number of times, seen a ghost in the hallway of her
    home, floating around late at night.  This worried her a
    little.  She wondered if the prayer she had prayed to God had
    been the right thing to do.  Perhaps God did not want her to be
    magical.  Perhaps it was not something that should be part of
    her life.  Yet, her curiousity remained and she had decided she
    would talk to Shelandragh about what, if any, magical abilities that
    Muggles may be able to achieve.  It certainly seemed to be worth
    at least asking her best friend’s teacher.
    
    
    
    
    Chapter Five
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘The Stoned Philosophers’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘The shepherd of the soul?  What
    the hell does that mean Looshy?’  Lucy laughed at the slurred
    voice Houston, David’s cousin, was speaking in.  She had
    shared with him a passage from Ezekicl chapter 34 about David the
    Shepherd of Israel and had compared him to the shepherd of the soul. 
    Houston, who seemed to be an agnostic with some sort of vague belief
    in God had been spouting out various philosophies on life, the other
    stoned philosophers being David and David’s dad, old man Barry. 
    These three wise men had been discussing the great and grand meanings
    of life and what it all meant for the last two hours, steadily and
    devotedly consuming their most fierce passion for life – the
    beloved Tooheys.  Lucy had been listening intently to the
    conversations, most intrigued by the wide variety of subjects which
    the three stoned philosophers seemed adroit at discussing and
    contemplating.  Houston had been discussing a conversation he’d
    had with David’s brother in law, Daniel, who lived up in Canberra. 
    Daniel had been preaching the Noahide faith to Houston, who found it
    interesting, but not converting material.  Yet it had been an
    interesting conversation and Houston was sharing with the other
    stoned philosophers the true grand meaning of life.  Evolution
    was discussed.  So were certain ideas regarding human sexuality
    which seemed to be, from what Lucy had noted since living in Chakola,
    a favourite topic of the stoned philosophers.  Her mother had
    reprimanded Lucy on one occasion for listening to the often quite
    brazen conversations of the stoned philosophers, but had after a
    while allowed her daughter to be exposed to their conversations.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘King David is the Shepherd of the
    Soul, Houston.’  Lucy stated quite plainly.  ‘Shounds
    bloody good to me,’ said David, raising a toast to the ancient
    Israelite King.  Barry, who had a basic biblical knowledge,
    began recounting the famous encounter between David and Goliath. 
    The subject of Goliath’s actual size came up, Barry insisting that
    the biblical description was exaggeration, as the whole Bible quite
    obviously seemed to be.  The conversation was intense and most
    interesting for young Lucy to observe.  After Barry and Houston
    had settled the issue that Goliath was probably a midget, much to
    David’s annoyance, they had all taken yet another beer in what had
    become a standard Friday night occurrence.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Three other stoned philosophers were
    lying down in Centennial Park, gazing up at the sky, high on their
    drug of choice, the still illegal marijuana.  Bradrick, Jack and
    Marty, three of Cooma’s most disrespected lowlifes, were doing
    their usual Friday night routine of getting high and letting the
    usual mundanity of the terror of life pass on by.  They had been
    lying there that night, the subject of conversation one of their
    favourite discussion points, the scene of the desert in the ‘Doors’
    movie, starring Val Kilmer.  This most inspiring scene had led
    the three lowlives to pursue, valiantly, the experience offered by
    man’s true best friend – their drug of choice – which helped
    them escape from what was often the hell and isolation of their
    solitary existences.  The three of them shared a flat up the
    road from Centennial Park, were they spent most of their days. 
    They lived on the Centrelink allowance, usually to zonked out on
    drugs to ever do anything really useful with their lives.  But,
    this life that, for many people, often came to such a harsh and
    bitter state of existence, was persevered with simply because of the
    money that came through regularly and the availability of their
    required pastime supplies from local distributors.  These three
    stoned philosophers were, in many ways, real blokes of Australia. 
    They adored the cricket, which they watched with passion.  They
    drank beer.  And they got high.  Every few months, Bradrick
    would drive them up to Fyshwick in Canberra to visit the ladies for
    that other necessary component in their harsh existence.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    These three philosophers, laying there,
    were oblivious to the malevolent Grimlock who watched them from
    behind a tree a number of metres away.  Grimlock had decided,
    against his dark lords wishes, to enhance his powers with the use of
    a spell which was most evil and deadly in nature.  
    ‘Parasitis Zoe’, a most vicious and awful of spells, literally
    sucked the spiritual energy out of its victims and brought it into
    the spiritual aura of the one casting the spell.  It was one of
    the ancient and most evil of spells and Grimlock had been at first
    reluctant to use it, given the attitude his dark lord would respond
    with should he ever find out.  But, in his pride, he had decided
    to cast the spell to draw energy into his vortex of Spirit, to give
    him the necessary means and powers to forward his own private and
    personal objectives.  The three philosophers would, so Grimlock
    felt, make perfect victims.  They were zonked – they would
    have no ability whatsoever to resist his dark might.  Carefully,
    he approached them, and began the works of the spell.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    A number of minutes later, Grimlock
    looked down on the lifeless corpses of the three stoned
    philosophers.  In his malevolent heart he pitied them a little,
    yet the reward which he now felt so strongly in his vortex was to
    great a reward to have passed up.  He looked around. 
    Nobody was present, but someone could appear at any time.  He
    had best leave the scene at once to ensure there was no connection
    between himself and the now lifeless corpses.  As he walked up
    the main street of Cooma, returning to his flat, he felt the new
    energy surge through his body.  The power within him now was
    extremely strong.  He sensed the natures and memories of the
    stoned philosophers, yet banished them from his heart.  He cared
    not for the memories of such pathetic souls, yet would delight in the
    dark power he now possessed.  It was delightful, so the
    malevolent Grimlock felt, to partake of such power.  To partake
    of and delight in the most evil of spells.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Jerry, Ty and Doug put the finishing
    touches to their new album.  ‘The Stoned Philosophers.’ 
    The trio, known as the Xtreme Kings, were an established band in the
    metal scene of Cooma.  Although this was not necessarily the
    greatest of accomplishments as the Cooma metal scene consisted of the
    Xtreme Kings and a drunk guy up the road who let it rip on the guitar
    late at nights, belting out extremely bad Guns’n’Roses licks. 
    But the Xtreme Kings were determined to have success.  They had
    goals.  They were gonna ‘kick ass’ and ‘go for broke’ to
    get a name for themselves.  They were not just kings – but
    ‘Xtreme Kings’.  There new album, their second, following a
    most unmonumental first release, did seem to the band a vast
    improvement.  It almost, strangely enough, seemed like a
    reasonable metal album.  Perhaps not quite up to the standard of
    some of the legendary material they often covered by some of the
    classical metal artists, the production values obviously lacking due
    to their low budget.  But the riffs and melodies seemed to each
    of them quite cool.  They felt, if they were to ever have any
    impact in Australia in metal, this album would probably be there best
    starting point.  The album title had come from the three stoned
    philosophers who regularly hung out in Centennial Park in the centre
    of Cooma.  The Kings knew the guys and occasionally smoked dope
    with them, but not to the degree that the philosophers did.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    The album seemed good.  The first
    track was perhaps the albums killer track.  Entitled ‘Primal
    emotion’, it related the absolute savagery of the heart and human
    existence.  It was honest and, so the band felt, quite cutting
    edge.  It may even chart in Australia, if the record company
    agreed to proceed with their second album which was not guaranteed
    but an option which was in their contract with them.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    They had put the finishing touches to
    the album, when their part-time manager burst into their small
    studio.  ‘Guys, fuck, I mean.   Guys I have some
    fucking bad news dudes.  The philosophers are fucking dead. 
    I mean they are fucking dead.  Like totally and completely
    fucking dead.’  The Kings looked at their manager, a look of
    concern apparent.  Jerry spoke up.  ‘What do you mean
    their dead?’  ‘The police are at the Park and they have put
    up barriers preventing people from entering.  Everyone has been
    saying that the philosophers have karked it.’  Doug looked at
    the two other kings, and went over to a bench to sit down.  ‘Now
    that fucking sucks, don’t it.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    A little later on, having come to terms
    with the bad news, the Kings began work on a new track in homage to
    the philosophers.  Simply titled ‘Afterlife’ it would
    hopefully speak of the friendship they had developed with the
    departed souls, ones which had inspired the title of their album. 
    But the mood was sombre and the Kings could not finish the track. 
    A darkness had entered the house of the Xtreme Kings, and perhaps all
    throughout Cooma.  A darkness of ancient evil, most malicious
    and malevolent in its intent.  Most malicious indeed.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Darren Merryweather looked across the
    street at the shop which had just opened up.  He had noticed it
    immediately and looking at the sign reading ‘The Dragon’s Lair’
    Darren felt that something he had previously feared was perhaps
    coming to pass.  His instincts told him straight away that
    Grimlock was inside the shop, having moved from his store in Hobart. 
    And Darren, almost instantly, knew why.  Grimlock would be
    seeking out the child Lucy for his own purposes, whatever they may
    be.  In Australia, the witch and wizard community was not that
    large, nowhere near the size of the established communities in
    England.  News of the cousin of the popular Harry had obviously
    reached Grimlock, who had obviously sought out young Miss Potter for
    whatever purposes he had in mind.  Darren felt, now, that these
    purposes were not aimed at the good of Lucy.  That Grimlock had
    perhaps shown his hand which had been hidden so far and confirmed the
    suspicions that the ministry of magic had in him.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    He walked over to the store and looked
    inside through the front window.  He spied Grimlock inside,
    working at the counter, and moved away quickly so as not to be seen. 
    So it was indeed him.  He wondered silently to himself wether
    Grimlock perhaps had some sort of association with the recent deaths
    in the Park in the centre of town.  If it were true that he was
    seeking out young Lucy, and that not for good, perhaps those three
    poor souls who had passed on had, in some way, come into contact with
    Grimlock and not for their good.  But, of course, this was only
    speculation.  Grimlock, in the encounters he’d had with him,
    seemed a wily sort of character, but did not really, in the end, seem
    given over to that kind of darkness.  The kind that would
    actually take the life of another’s soul.  Perhaps it was
    simply coincidence.  Perhaps that was all it was.  Yet
    Darren would exercise caution in his duties to watch over Lucy. 
    And if Grimlock ever came on the scene he would need to be prepared
    to respond in whatever manner such a situation called for, to the
    possible servant of the dark arts.
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Alfric read through the correspondence
    he had received from Darren Merryweather, a letter received a few
    moments ago in the mail.  It seemed perhaps quite alarming that
    Grimlock had now moved to Cooma.  Darren’s suspicions and
    their earlier investigation, while halted due to lack of evidence,
    would most definitely now need to be proceeded with.  It
    appeared quite obvious to Alfric that dark forces were at work. 
    Dark powers were using Grimlock to accomplish malevolent and evil
    purposes.  Alfric, as head of the ministry of magic in
    Australia, had received regular correspondence from the various
    ministries worldwide.  In the last few years dark forces had
    been growing in their malicious activities and the passion for evil,
    once thought almost dead by the ministry, had reignited and was
    approaching, it felt, some sort of climax.  In the world today,
    Passion, was growing.  It felt that in so many ways in society
    and in the world, a grand and great plot seemed to be approaching its
    conclusion.  As if the powers that be had been steadily working
    towards a conclusion of things.  An ultimate climax to chains of
    events, perhaps, started in days of ancient times.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Alfric had attended a number of
    seminars in Christian churches recently regarding the ‘end of
    days’.  The Schwarzenegger movie had been most intriguing when
    he had first seen it, but it had come and gone with little fanfare. 
    But, now it seemed, the dark spirits talked of in that movie were,
    perhaps, at work to accomplish their objectives and realize their
    ultimate goal of world control.  The darkest of all the lords of
    evil – the dreaded Antichrist – his fearful and most malicious
    work seemed to be steadily underway.  And this work Alfric
    worked steadfastly and faithfully against.  He was not, really,
    Christian in nature or belief in a fundamental kind.  Yet he did
    believe in the creator and felt that the themes and ideas of the
    apocalyptic literature served a purpose in the grand design. 
    The spiritual and magical energies of the universe worked steadily
    towards achieving their goals – and the prophetic realities of the
    biblical texts were born, so Alfric had concluded, of spiritual
    energy at play.  He looked forward.  He contemplated the
    future.  And he felt that, while there was still much goodness
    in the world, darkness was now drawing up its reserves and
    strengths.  Dark magic had been alive for aeons.  Good
    wizards had always been around, but the servants of darkness had
    fought and opposed them for countless centuries.  But now the
    power of darkness was spreading, infecting the souls and hearts of so
    many people.  A particular concern was the growing popularity of
    ‘death metal’ which emphasized hatred of God and goodness,
    practically preaching death and destruction.  He had seen many
    youths affected by such music, often causing quite severe
    psychological damage.  This music had influenced many dark
    magicians and wizards to practice their dark arts with even greater
    evil and hatred.  It seemed that portents of destruction were
    present in the world.  That the dark lord of ancient evil was at
    work and striving to achieve his most ancient of goals – control
    and domination of the entire world order.  The most disturbing
    aspect of the seminars he had recently seen was the theology
    regarding the mark of the beast – the power of the number 666. 
    The teacher of the seminar taught that a microchip implanted in the
    right hand or the forehead, which enabled a universal economic system
    to be completely controlled and buying and selling of goods far
    better organised, especially with security concerns, would quite
    probably appear in the world in the not too distant future. 
    This electronic mark was the mark of the beast.  Through it the
    Antichrist and the False Prophet could gain control over the new
    world order.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    All of this information was, to Alfric,
    most disturbing.  Most alarmingly disturbing.  The evil
    within the heart of mankind was coming to a head.  And an ending
    known throughout Christendom’s long history, yet recently gone
    quiet about, simply known as the ‘Great Tribulation’ was perhaps
    close at hand.  And that tribulation Alfric feared.  If it
    were to come, life as he knew it would cease.  The world he knew
    would fade away and be no more.  But, the good news was that the
    Kingdom would be born.  The eternal Kingdom of the creator would
    begin a millennial reign.  And the powers of light – the
    Christ and the Angelic host – would rule over a restored paradise. 
    If that were to actually eventuate, the tribulation, it would seem,
    would serve its purpose.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Alfric looked out of the window of his
    office in the ministry offices.  Canberra life was steadily
    going through its everyday routine.  For now, all seemed fine. 
    All seemed fine and well.  But in the not too distant future
    what strange new ways awaited.  What strange new law beckoned
    for the world he knew as home.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Chapter Six
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    “The Dragon Attacks”
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Rhaemlius Tornanda Daverion, the
    Wyvvern of Canberra, awoke.  She was hungry.  Oh so
    hungry.  And with a passion.  The fire had awoken in her
    veins.  The fire of hunger for new blood.  New life. 
    New food.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    She had slept, as usual, a millennium. 
    This was her standard sleeping pattern she had established since the
    dawn of youth – the dawn of her creation – in the early days of
    life of Terra, from were she had emerged to come to the far lands, a
    place no Wyvvern or dragon seemed to be.  She had fed then, in
    those dark and early days, on the children of the dreamtime lord’s
    flesh.  The dark skinned ones whose meat fed her and sustained
    her in her lonely existence.  Last millennia she had mated. 
    Dracorion Tashnay Daverion, whose name she had taken, had given her
    seed.  And she had sensed within her body twins.  Two new
    wyverns for the community of wyvverndom.  She further sensed
    their sexes – a male and a female.  This was good news. 
    Most delightful and joyful good news.  When they had grown she
    would return to Terra and seek out Dracorion to display her pride,
    the new children of Rhaemlius.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    She emerged from her hidden cave,
    coming out into the trees surrounding the entrance to the cave, along
    the mountains which the dark skinned ones knew as the Brindabellas.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    She headed south, to the place she knew
    food would be available, not to far a flight for one such as herself,
    a place were she could gorge herself and enjoy the awakening time for
    a number of years before again returning to her slumber.  In
    those years she would raise and teach the children which she would
    birth later that day.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Flying along she looked downwards. 
    A new and strange road seemed to have been made.  Perhaps it
    would prove useful to follow along.  She spied a number of
    strange structures, something which she had never really observed
    previously in her life.  Yet, they were a curiousity only. 
    Food was needed.  After a long flight, she spied a
    conglomeration of the structures.  And around them she spied the
    food she sought.  Although not the dark skinned ones, but rather
    pale skins.  Still, they would do for food.  One was as
    good as another.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy, Shelandragh and Darren were
    sitting in front of Michelago general store, sipping on coke and
    eating through hamburgers.  Michelago was about 50 kilometres
    north of Chakola, south of Canberra.  Darren had suggested they
    travel up to the small town to spend some time simply enjoying life
    and to have a meal.  They would spend some time discussing magic
    in a new and interesting location.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy was enjoying her hamburger. 
    It was with the ‘Lot’ with extra bacon, which she always
    enjoyed.  She also had some hot chips, but she had not really
    bothered with them, only taking a few.  Darren was in
    conversation with Shelandragh, discussing basic animistic aspects
    relating to Michelago.  The spirit realm in Michelago was gentle
    and peaceful – soul-restoring and calmly refreshing.  This was
    often the spiritual energy which country towns in Australia had
    associated with them.  They had both noticed the presence of
    angelic beings and demonic forces who were engaged in a heated matter
    over by the Catholic Church up the road a little.  One of their,
    it would seem, regular wars for territory and power.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Other spirits were present near them as
    well, especially a cheeky young Dryad who had made herself known to
    Darren to ask him who he was.  Lucy was now used to seeing
    various spiritual beings appear.  These were not usually
    noticeable by muggles, who were not gifted with the same spiritual
    awareness which those of the craft had been blessed with. 
    Earlier that morning, after having been asked some questions by
    Madalene on the concept of spiritual awareness, Lucy had been reading
    through the New Testament in various passages.  One of the gifts
    of God’s spirit was discernment of spirits which, she felt, if the
    spirit blessed further would give awareness of the spirit realm. 
    The idea of the gifts of the spirit of 1 Corinthians chapter 12, Lucy
    felt also had counterparts in the spiritual realm of witchcraft and
    wizardry.  The abilities of spell-creation, magic manipulation,
    animistic awareness and other such gifts were, it seemed to Lucy,
    also a gift from the divine spirit of life, something akin to the
    gifts which the ecclesia – the church – also possessed. 
    Darren had been talking about a Pentecostal church he had attended in
    conversation with Lucy earlier that morning.  He had felt
    spiritual beings present in the Assembly, often surrounding him with
    the spirit of love, but often spirits of passion and fire as well. 
    The experience had been uplifting to Darren, and he had asked God for
    an appropriate blessing of God’s choosing to be given to him in the
    Assembly.  Since then, he had felt the divine spirit of fire in
    work in his heart and mind, giving him new understandings and
    appreciation for the life of eternity which each human being was
    birthed with.  Further, it illuminated his mind to the truth
    that spiritual awakening, often known as the new birth experience
    within Pentecostalism, was entering the outside world beyond the
    realms of Christendom.  It was through such avenues as the New
    Age movement and even traditional witchcraft and wizardry that the
    divine spirit of life – the eternal fire – was entering the
    hearts of all the children of the eternal, renewing them and helping
    them overcome their own difficulties and problems in the spirit of
    love and kindness and respectful affection which the divine fire
    eternally displayed.  The fire within Darren had filled his mind
    with the idea of communicating this new reality –this spiritual
    awakening – within the hearts of the magical community to the great
    eternal creative source.  Other spiritual beings, which pagans
    and other religions sought out for peace, had slowly over the great
    number of centuries since the beginning of the great powers work of
    unification, been calling these deities to a place of peace, love and
    redemption.  Ancient Canaanite gods, who had once suffered the
    wrath and fury of the Almighty Father had been forgiven and had now
    accepted the authority of the eternal power.  These Canaanite
    gods had gone forth into the community of the ‘gods’ to bring the
    good news of unity, love and peace.  The God of the ancient
    covenant, the eternal ‘Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh’ had sought peace and
    grace in the reawakening amongst the spiritual communities of
    mankind.  One of his once fallen children, ancient Baal, whose
    priests had once been so savagely slaughtered by the zealous
    Israelite prophet Elijah, had repented of his rebellion against the
    Almighty, accepted the truth that his own authority could not and
    never could challenge the eternal creators spirit, and had gone forth
    to put his house in order.  Other Canaanite deities, such as Mot
    and Asherah had also fallen into line.  And the spiritual
    awakening had gone on throughout the realms of the gods.  Yet,
    of course, not without opposition.  The ultimate lord of evil,
    the dark power Satan, continued to reject the offer of resolution
    which the Almighty perpetually offered to him, instead seeking out
    the grand destiny of his own servants, the demonic forces, to
    accomplish his goal of world rulership.  Various deities, such
    as Zeus, Jupiter and Mars, and various others, had cautiously come
    into alliance with the Almighty, sensing the ultimate threat of the
    dark lord in the potential havoc he could unleash upon their
    dominions.  Ancient Greek and Roman gods, having been passive
    for many centuries under the authority of Jesus the Christ, had
    finally broken his yoke in the Tradition of Edom and Jacob, and been
    accepted again in their standing in the divine community.  And
    peace had ensued, yet, of course, the threat of the dark lord
    remained ever present.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    After sitting a while, Lucy noticed
    suddenly a large shadow pass over herself, Shelandragh and Darren. 
    Looking up she jumped when she saw, what would be, her first gaze
    upon a dragon.  Alarmed she shouted to Darren and Shelandragh to
    look at the dragon in the sky.  Shelandragh instantly identified
    the beast.  ‘It is the Wyvvern from Canberra, Darren. 
    The one who dwells under the city.  I fear it has emerged and is
    hungry.  We must capture it now.  This type of Wyvvern
    feeds on human flesh.  If we can communicate with it we must
    persuade it to partake of sheep and cattle instead.’  ‘And
    if it refuses?’ asked Darren.  ‘Then we will have to kill it
    Darren.’  Darren nodded.  Shelandragh looked at Lucy. 
    ‘Lucy.  You go inside the store.  It will not be safe
    while we pursue the dragon.  You could become a victim. 
    Now go girl.  Hurry.  Lucy dutifully obeyed her teacher,
    and entered the store, quickly going over to the side window to see
    if she could spy the Wyvvern.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Darren and Shelandragh went to the car
    in which they had driven up to Michelago from Bunyan, Darren’s four
    wheel drive, and opening the back door, grabbed their broomsticks.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    A short time later, Darren and
    Shelandragh were slowly gaining on the dragon, who had been circling
    around Michelago, perhaps studying out a potential victim.  As
    they neared, the Wyvvern spotted them and opened its mouth, breathing
    fire in their direction.  Shelandragh yelled out ‘Hydros’,
    and a torrent of water went forth, extinguishing the blaze the dragon
    had bellowed out.  She yelled to Darren.  ‘This breed
    needs a number of minutes to replenish the chemicals to breathe fire
    again.  Our time may be short.  I will approach the Dragon
    and speak to it.  Go over to the side of it and be ready to
    strike if needs be.’  The Dragon, flapping wings, hovering
    before them considered its options.  These pale skins, it felt,
    could make suitable food.  She decided to attack the female who
    had come forward in front of her.  Before the attack though, she
    sensed the creature communicating with her mind.  ‘Golden
    ridged Wyvvern.  You must cease in your intentions. 
    Humanity has grown strong now.  We no longer fear dragons and
    are quite capable of fighting and slaying them.  We know you
    need food and suggest you partake of the sheep and cattle which are
    all over this region.’  The Dragon considered these words,
    before responding.  ‘Why should I believe you, human, when
    creatures such as yourself make such delicious food.  Nay, I
    think ye lie to myself.  A ruse to trap me and enslaven me to
    your desires.’  ‘I speak truly, dragon.  We are quite
    capable of defeating you.  We are ancient spellcasters, and have
    a long history of studying creatures as yourself.  Our arsenal
    of magical power can easily defeat and slay creatures such as
    yourself.  Of this being the case you can most definitely stand
    assured.’  The dragon looked at the creature but decided not
    to bother with any further conversation.   She was hungry,
    and this human creature would suffice for a beginning to her
    feeding.  She launched forward, ready to swallow the creature,
    which instantly flew out of reach.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Shelandragh looked at Darren and yelled
    out.  ‘I don’t think our approach is working.  The
    Dragon does not care about what I have said.  It just wants to
    eat.’  ‘What do we do?’ Darren yelled back.  ‘I
    really don’t want to kill it.  This breed is extremely rare,
    but we have little other option at the moment.’  Darren
    thought on that.  ‘Perhaps if we try to capture it, a solution
    can come later.’  Shelandragh nodded.  ‘Okay,’ as she
    flew out of the reach of another of the dragon’s lunges.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Freefall’, yelled Shelandragh at
    the Dragon, in one of her own created spells.  The Wyvvern
    started flapping its wings a lot more violently in response to the
    magical energy which had come upon it, and slowly feeling the weight,
    began falling down to the ground.’  It hit the dirt with a
    loud thud, and lay there, apparently contemplating its next move.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Darren and Shelandragh flew down and
    stood in front of the Dragon.  Shelandragh spoke. 
    ‘Creature.  I warned you about our powers.  We will
    prevail against you if you persist in your madness.  Cease, and
    accept our offer of sheep and cattle.’  The dragon looked
    malevolently at this cursed creature who was controlling it and,
    sensing it’s fire breathing chemicals now restored, breathed out
    quick, more ferocious flame, in Shelandragh’s direction.  This
    time, while Shelandragh was again able to respond with ‘Hydros’,
    the flames managed to burn much of her clothing, singing her hair and
    burning some of her scalp.  It hurt like hell.  She
    retreated a distance and, in a sudden moment of vengeance, screamed
    to Darren.  ‘Kill the creature, Darren.  It is the only
    thing we can do.’  Darren nodded and cast the spell ‘Magmas’
    at the dragon.  A flame of fire came forth from Darren’s wand,
    burning a savage hole into the Dragon’s flesh.  It yelled in
    pain, screaming in agony.  Darren really did not like to finish
    the encounter like this, but sensed little other option.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Shelandragh came over to stand next to
    Darren as the Dragon began its death throes.  Strangely, though,
    it managed to stand to its feet and began making a thrusting motion
    with its body.  Looking on intently, Shelandragh and Darren saw
    two large eggs, first one, then the other, emerge from the Dragon. 
    And then, after a final heave, the dragon collapsed on the ground,
    slowly sinking down to the halls of the dead.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    The eggs began shaking.  Cracks
    started appearing, and emerging from them came forth two young
    dragons.  They came forth, looking at their fallen mother, and
    puzzling over the two human creatures before them.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Darren looked at Shelandragh.  ‘We
    can not kill them as well, Shelandragh.  I am afraid we will
    have to take care of them.  They are our responsibility now.’ 
    Shelandragh nodded, still in pain over the singe, and in a state of
    anxiety over the now fallen dragon.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Darren approached the dragons, who were
    around a metre in length each, and began the process of making
    friends.  The dragons looked at him in their fresh innocence,
    perhaps thinking him some sort of parent figure.  Darren,
    thinking over lessons of bonding he had learned, looked at the
    dragons, and started walking away from them, his eyes still fixed
    upon them.  In their first steps of life, the dragons began
    following him, like obedient young ducklings.  He spoke to
    Shelandragh.  ‘They’re following me.  If we can get
    them to the car, we can take them down to Chakola.  They should
    be safe there.  Shelandragh nodded, still wincing at the pain.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    They walked, carrying their
    broomsticks, the few hundred metres over the field they had been in,
    climbing over a wire fence and returning to the store.  A number
    of people from the store peered on with grave looks on their faces,
    not sure what to make of in the sudden appearance of dragons. 
    Lucy stood near the car, and Shelandragh and Darren, with the dragons
    following, asked Lucy to open the back door to the four wheel drive,
    which she did so in response.  Darren managed to lift each of
    the dragons into the back of the car, and the three of them got
    inside and very hastily made there way away from the store, heading
    out of Michelago, back down to Chakola.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Chapter Seven
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Goldie and Silver’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy smiled at the two dragons as they
    played with each other, trying to bite each others ears.  They
    were both golden ridged wyverns, yet the female of the twins had a
    silver streak further down along her spine, going down along the
    tail.  Because of this Lucy had named the dragons ‘Goldie’
    and ‘Silver’.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Goldie was, in his youth, a savage and
    aggressive young Dragon.  He fought Silver most passionately and
    fiercely.  He would not relent or be persuaded from his attacks
    upon her until he had achieved his will.  Silver usually avoided
    Goldie’s attacks but often, when too greatly provoked, established
    her own space and responded to the often malicious attacks of the
    passionate Goldie.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy, with Shelandragh and Darren
    looking on, got on the back of ‘Goldie’ who cautiously began
    walking around the back yard of Shelandragh’s house.  ‘Do
    you think, when he has grown a little, he may be able to fly with
    myself sitting on his back?’  ‘Perhaps, young Lucy,’ said
    Shelandragh.  ‘Dragonriding is popular throughout Europe
    amongst many witches and wizards, yet we are very careful to make
    sure that muggles rarely, if ever, notice us.  There are certain
    spells we use to ensure privacy, which I will teach you one day, but
    not for now.  Goldie and Silver are still too young to fly, and
    won’t be able to for a while.’  ‘How long will that be?’
    asked Lucy.  Shelandragh thought on that question, and turned to
    Darren.  ‘I’m not sure with Golden ridged wyverns how long
    till they can fly.  Have you any idea?’  ‘Dragons are
    not my specialty, Shelandragh.  Nor wyverns, for that matter. 
    I think, Lucy, that the dragons will fly when nature teaches them to
    fly.  Eagles when young are often nudged out of their mother’s
    nest to get them started, so the same may be true with dragons. 
    I am sure when they are ready, they will know what to do.’ 
    Lucy looked down at Goldie.  ‘Well, Goldie.  Do you think
    you and me could one day take to the skies?’  The dragon, for
    the first time in its life, opened its mouth and spit out a few
    sparks of fire.’  Lucy jumped.  Shelandragh and Darren
    both grinned.  ‘Perhaps that was not the answer you were
    looking for, Lucy,’ said Shelandragh.  ‘As long as that
    doesn’t happen when we are in the air I won’t really mind,
    Shelandragh.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    The dragon started walking around the
    yard, Lucy on top, and began flapping its wings a little.  The
    Dragons wings, over the last few days, had grown quite rapidly. 
    Goldies wings were largely black like his mother’s, but there were
    streaks of Gold and Silver and a dark metallic greenish colour in
    various streaky patches splayed over the wings.  Silver looked
    similar, but she had dark blue, instead of the greenish colour on her
    wings.  Shelandragh had stated to Lucy that this trait was
    likely inherited from the dragon’s father, as their mother was all
    black, apart from the Golden spine.  Both of the Dragon’s
    tongues were bright red, common amongst that breed.  They ate
    the bales of hay that Shelandragh fed them by licking it up with
    their tongues.  Shelandragh also fed them various fruits and
    vegetables, for a balanced diet.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Can we have a go now?’ asked
    Jayden, who had been sitting with his sisters on the back porch,
    anxiously waiting their turn.  ‘Come on Lucy,’ said Darren. 
    ‘Its Jayden’s turn.’  Lucy nodded and got on Goldie. 
    ‘Come on Goldie.  Walk this way.’  Lucy led Goldie over
    to Jayden, who climbed up with a big smile on his face.  ‘Fly
    Goldie.  Flap your wings,’ said Jayden, anxious to see if the
    dragon would obey.  ‘She’s not going to fly, you dork,’
    said Madalene.  ‘Shut up Maddie.  She can fly.  Flap
    your wings Goldie.’  Georgia pulled on Shelandragh’s coat. 
    ‘Can Goldie fly,’ she asked, in her usual faint voice. 
    ‘Probably not until she is older, Georgia.’  ‘You have 5
    minutes, Jayden, then it is my turn,’ said Madalene.  Don’t
    forget I am counting.’  ‘Whatever,’ said Jayden.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Half an hour later, after David’s
    children had each had a turn, the kids were in the loungeroom of
    Shelandragh’s house playing monopoly, while Darren and Shelandragh
    were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Of course, Wyvvern’s can be quite
    dangerous as they get older.  Like all wild animals, they have a
    fierce spirit which is often difficult to train.’  Darren
    nodded at Shelandragh’s comments.  ‘Do you think this will
    possibly endanger Lucy?’  ‘Not yet.  Wyvvern’s are
    extremely intelligent and can communicate in any known language. 
    Their brains work intuitively to understand the sense of what is
    being spoken or said by someone or something approaching them. 
    They can understand every human language and all animal forms of
    communication.  They generally rival mankind in intelligence in
    this respect.  Because of this, we have the opportunity to teach
    Goldie and Silver while they are young.  If we can instil within
    them a sense of respect for human life, we can go a long way to
    taming their savagery.  They could, over the long term, prove
    very useful companions to Lucy.’  ‘How do they speak?’ 
    ‘Their minds send out a form of psychic energy which the listener
    hears in his or her mind.  Dark wyverns and dragons can, if they
    so choose, use an extreme amount of willpower to almost control the
    mind and thoughts of their adversaries.  They are a most fierce
    opponent because of this.’  ‘When should we start trying to
    teach them?’  ‘I think in a few weeks they should be
    developed enough for our first instructive lessons.  Anyway,
    another cup of tea?’  Darren nodded and Shelandragh poured out
    for Mr Merryweather another cup of the finest Lady Grey.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lindsay smiled at Lucy’s comment. 
    ‘Yes, Lucy.  I like the car as well.’  ‘It looks just
    like Herbie, Lindsay,’ said Lucy.  ‘Yes.  That was
    intentional.  The number 53 is Herbie’s number, so I thought I
    would decorate my bug in the same fashion as Herbie.’  ‘Are
    you really going to race it up in the festival in Canberra?’ 
    ‘I don’t really know for sure, Lucy.  I was thinking of
    entering the car more as a funny joke or something humorous. 
    But the organizers didn’t mind, so I may show up.  I haven’t
    mind up my mind, though.’  ‘You really should enter the
    competition, Lindsay.  I think you could come first.’ 
    ‘Come first?  Yeh, it would be nice to come first.’ 
    ‘What do you call the car, Lindsay?’  ‘Well, Herbie of
    course, Lucy.  What else could I possibly call it?’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lindsay was a friend of David and
    Brigid’s, who had driven out to Chakola to show her new Volkswagen
    bug to David’s kids and Lucy.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Can we have a go in riding with you,
    Lindsay?’ asked Jayden.  ‘Everyone get in,’ said Lindsay. 
    Lucy, Jayden, Madalene and Georgia all climbed into Lindsay’s
    Volkswagen.  ‘Remember to go as fast as possible,’ said
    Jayden.  ‘Shut up,’ said Madalene to Jayden.  ‘Don’t
    go fast,’ said Georgia.  Lucy, sitting in the front seat next
    to Lindsay, gave Lindsay a little grin and said.  ‘Go fast,
    Lindsay.’  ‘Hold on everyone,’ yelled Lindsay, as the bug
    pulled out of the schoolhomes driveway, belting down to the
    crossing.  ‘Too fast,’ complained Georgia.  ‘Don’t
    worry, Georgia,’ said Madalene.  ‘Lindsay is a good driver.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    The car crossed over the crossing and
    made its way along the dirt track towards the other houses in
    Chakola.  ‘Did David leave the gates open?’ Lindsay asked
    Lucy.  Lucy nodded.  ‘But we have to shut them on the way
    back,’ said Madalene.  Lindsay nodded, and the car zoomed up
    around a bend, steadily making its way up to Oak hill, were David’s
    caravan was situated.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    When they got to the caravan, Lindsay
    spun the bug around on the dirt track in front of the caravan a few
    times, the screams of the children indicating pure delight. 
    Eventually Lindsay brought the car up next to the caravan, turned off
    the engine, and told the children to exit.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘There is some coke cans in the
    fridge in the caravan, as well as heaps of chips in the cupboard,’
    said Madalene.  ‘I’ll get them,’ said Jayden.  Lucy,
    Madalene, Georgia and Lindsay sat down on the benches alongside the
    caravan.  Shortly Jayden returned with 5 cans of Coke and some
    packets of crisps.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘What do you do in Canberra,
    Lindsay?’ Madalene asked Lindsay.  ‘Oh, different things. 
    I have a couple of part-time jobs.  One in MacDonald’s, and
    another in a café in Barton.  The rest of the time I am
    studying.  ‘What are you studying?’ asked Jayden.  ‘An
    arts degree.  Not sure what I will concentrate on yet, but an
    arts degree for now.  I might study something else later.’
     Georgia, who was over by the front of the caravan, suddenly
    yelled out.  ‘Look.’  She soon came to the others,
    holding a croaking toad in her hand, covered with dirt.  ‘Ooh,
    gross,’ said Madalene.  Lucy looked at it.  ‘It’s a
    frog, isn’t it?’  Lindsay looked at it, ‘I think it’s a
    toad, actually.’  ‘If you kiss it, it will turn into a
    handsome prince, Lindsay.  Go on kiss it,’ said Jayden.’ 
    ‘That’s disgusting, Jayden.  Why don’t you kiss it,
    Gayden.  I am sure you would like a prince to kiss,’ said
    Madalene.  ‘Shut up, Maddy.  Don’t call my gay. 
    I’m not gay.  I’m straight.’  ‘Jayden’s gay,
    Jayden’s gay,’ teased Madalene.’  Lindsay looked at the
    two children, a little shocked at such language.  ‘Don’t
    worry about them, said Lucy.  They talk like that all the time. 
    Brigid calls them ferals.’  ‘A very suitable title, I
    think,’ said Lindsay.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Later on, after Lindsay had left for
    Canberra, Lucy and the kids were watching Star Wars episode I in the
    schoolhome.  Lucy, thinking on Lindsay, thought she was a pretty
    young woman and admired her maturity.  Thinking on Queen
    Amidala, Lucy thought Lindsay and Amidala were alike in some ways. 
    Both grown up and responsible.  It was something, hearing so
    many lessons from her mother and Shelandragh, that she felt a little
    inspired to try to grow in to as well.  It would be wonderful to
    be all grown up like Lindsay.  To be in charge of your own life
    and to live as you pleased.  Hopefully she would grow up into a
    mature young lady like both of them.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Doug looked at the gravestone of
    Bradrick, one of the Stoned Philosophers.  Their deaths had
    saddened him.  The Xtreme Kings had been close to the
    philosophers.  They, in a strange way, looked up to the dudes. 
    They were older than them and had trodden through paths of life,
    perhaps, from Doug’s perspective, paths they shouldn’t have
    trodden.  But the philosophers had shared the wisdom they had
    gleaned from life and had encouraged the Kings to learn from their
    mistakes.  Doug, particularly, had learned from the Philosophers
    much about boozing and drug use.  He remembered a conversation
    with Bradrick.  ‘Doug.  Lad.  You can call me a
    hypocrite, which my loving fans often do, but lad, don’t get into
    the drug scene.  It will fuck you up in the end.  When I
    was younger I made mistakes.  I didn’t learn what I should
    have – what my parents taught me.  Me and the philosophers are
    bastards, in many ways.  But we are wise bastards.  Not
    rich bastards – fuck em all – but we are wise bastards. 
    Don’t make our mistakes, lad.  Don’t make our mistakes.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Doug had thought on the drug thing. 
    He had smoked it a little, against Bradrick’s advice, but had given
    it away.  He had thought on the issue and decided, with his
    potential in music, the drug scene could perhaps cost him some of his
    success.  Dudes who could have made it were too fucked up by
    drugs so much of the time that they never got their act together and
    achieved what they could have.  There were exceptions – that
    was true – but old fashioned sobriety usually ruled in the land of
    success.  That idea, Doug felt, was the probable truth.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Rest in peace, Bradrick.  Rest
    in peace, dude.’  Doug threw the flowers he had bought down on
    the grave of Bradrick and taking a last look, made his way over to Ty
    and Jerry who were hanging over near the fence of the cemetery. 
    ‘Did what you needed to?’ asked Jerry.  ‘Yeh,’ said
    Doug, sombrely.  ‘Come on, lets hit maccas,’ said Ty. 
    ‘This place is depressing.’  As the three Xtreme Kings made
    there way up to Mittagong Road, Doug turned to look at the cemetery. 
    Such is life and death, he thought to himself.  Such is life and
    death.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Jayden, against Shelandragh’s strict
    warning, had creeped into the backyard of Shelandragh’s house late
    one Saturday afternoon, having walked all the way from Chakola on his
    own, to see if he could in fact achieve his dream of flying on one of
    the Dragon’s.  Nobody was in the back yard, so he climbed the
    fence, and walked over to the pen were the two dragon’s were
    caged.  He undid the gate, and carefully encouraged Goldie to
    follow him out into the garden.  He closed the gate, so Silver
    could not get out, and got onto the back of Goldie.  ‘Giddy-up,’
    he yelled to Goldie, encouraging him to start moving.  ‘What
    are you doing, Jayden?’  Jayden jumped, and looked around. 
    He did not see anyone anywhere, but a voice had spoken to him. 
    Was he hearing things, he thought to himself.  He yelled giddy
    up again, and the voice spoke again.  ‘I suppose you want me
    to fly, don’t you?’  Jayden looked down at Goldie. 
    ‘Are you speaking to me Goldie?’  ‘Who else?’  ‘How
    do you do that?’  ‘No idea.  Just seems to happen.’ 
    ‘That’s awesome,’ said Jayden, amazed at the new phenomenon. 
    ‘Well, can you fly?’  ‘I don’t think I can do that yet. 
    I have tried a little, but can’t quite manage it.  But soon I
    should be able to.  I should warn you, young man, that I sense
    Shelandragh looking at us.’  Jayden looked to the back window
    of Shelandragh’s house, and noted Shelandragh staring at him. 
    He gave a little smile, and shrugged his shoulders.  Shelandragh
    looked at him for a few moments more, and closed the curtain. 
    He waited for the back door to open, but after a minute or so,
    Shelandragh had still not appeared.  Perhaps she didn’t mind
    him playing with Goldie, so he decided not to worry about it.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    He rode Goldie around the back yard for
    a few minutes, when the back door opened and Lucy came outside. 
    ‘Hello Jayden.  Shelandragh told me you were out here.’ 
    ‘What did she say?  Am I in trouble?’  ‘She didn’t
    say anything like that.  She just said you were in the back
    yard.’  ‘Oh,’ said Jayden.  ‘I guess she didn’t
    mind me riding the dragon.’  ‘She’s probably used to the
    kind of things kids get up to.’  Jayden nodded, puzzling a
    little on that statement.  ‘Were is Maddy and Georgia?’ 
    ‘Back in Canberra.  I came down with dad for the weekend to
    stay at the farm.  We got here just before lunch.’  ‘Oh,
    right.  Oh – just wait a second.’  Lucy went back
    inside and returned a few moments later with a camera.  ‘Smile
    Jayden.’  Jayden gave a big grin, and Lucy took a few photos
    on her digital camera of Jayden riding the dragon around the yard.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Later on, Jayden shared with Lucy the
    news of the dragon speaking to him, which Lucy had said had also
    happened to her.  ‘I don’t think they are quite ready to fly
    yet, J.  Perhaps in a few week.’  Jayden nodded. 
    ‘Hopefully I will be the first to fly them.’  ‘Not if I
    beat you to it,’ said Lucy, smiling at her friend.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    The two of them spent the rest of the
    afternoon playing some boardgames in Shelandragh’s living room, Mr
    Merryweather joining them.  Jayden found himself really happy
    around Lucy and Shelandragh.  They were friends in his life
    which he at his young age had really needed.
    
    
    
    
    Chapter Eight
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Grimlock’s Agenda’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Grimlock knocked on the door of
    ‘Minoxxia’ which was the home to Shelandragh May, the teacher of
    the half-blood Lucy Potter which he had been assigned by his dark
    lord to corrupt.  He had sent Shelandragh a letter earlier that
    week giving her news of his new store and requesting an audience with
    one of the local witches.  Shelandragh had responded positively,
    glad to see the opening of the new store and had invited him for
    Sunday afternoon tea.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    After a few moments, the door opened,
    and the appearance of Darren Merryweather gave him a startling
    shock.  ‘Mr Grimlock.  How pleasant to see you.  You
    seem to be quite a fair distance from home.  What brings you to
    Bunyan?’  Grimlock thought quickly on a story to explain to
    his adversary.  ‘Umm.  Yes.  Well, I grew up in
    Cooma and have decided to move back here to open a store here on the
    mainland.  The Hobart scene, while steady, has become dull. 
    Cooma seems a much more interesting spiritual climate to pursue my
    trade in.  I feel business here will be far more enjoyable. 
    I have been aware of Miss May’s notoriety for a number of years,
    and have requested an audience, to which she has most graciously
    acceded.’  ‘Of course.  Well, come in Mr Grimlock. 
    Oh, just a thing.  I have never actually asked you what your
    first name is.  Do you mind if I ask?’  ‘No.  I
    don’t mind.’  Darren looked at him for a few moments,
    waiting for the name, which was not forthcoming.  ‘The name,’
    he urged Mr Grimlock.  ‘Oh the name.  Yes, will, it is
    Grim.’  Darren looked at him strangely, considering that
    name.  ‘May I come inside, Mr Merryweather?’ 
    ‘Certainly.’  Darren stood aside, and Grimlock entered the
    abode of Miss Shelandragh May.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Grimlock walked down a short hall,
    coming to the main lounge-room, were who he presumed was Shelandragh
    May was talking with the probable young Lucy Potter.  Darren,
    who had followed him, spoke to Shelandragh.  ‘This is Mr
    Grimlock.  Mr Grim Grimlock, I think.’  Grimlock gave him
    a strange look, which unsettled Darren.  Shelandragh got to her
    feet.  ‘Mr Grimlock.  Please, come in.  Sit yourself
    down.’  Grimlock sat down on a vacant lounge.  ‘Hello
    Mr Grimlock,’ said the young Lady.  ‘My name’s Lucy.’ 
    ‘Lucy.  What a wonderful name.  It is my great pleasure
    to meet you, young lady.’  Lucy smiled, happy at Mr Grimlock’s
    kind words.  ‘Mr Grimlock.  Would you care for some tea
    or coffee?  I have some assorted spirits if that is more your
    thing.’  ‘Tea would be fine, Miss May.  Whatever you
    have.’  Darren sat down on a single lounge seat near
    Grimlock.  ‘Lucy.  I have known Mr Grimlock for a while
    now.  When I was working in Hobart I used to visit his store. 
    It is a small world, though, having him turn up here in Bunyan. 
    Very small indeed.’  ‘What do you do?’  Lucy asked
    Grimlock.  ‘I am, like Miss May, who I presume is your
    teacher, a master of the arts.  I have opened a shop, the
    Dragon’s lair, just recently in Cooma.  I am making myself
    known to the local magical community.  I was actually raised
    here, just up the road a little, but left at an extremely young age,
    so remember next to nothing of the place.’  ‘I thought you
    grew up here,’ interjected Darren.  ‘Oh, yes, in a manner of
    speaking.  I left when I was 5 years old, and have only dim
    memories of my childhood.  I think, though, that still qualifies
    for growing up here.’  Darren nodded, although the look on his
    face belied the obvious suspicion that Grimlock felt Mr Merryweather
    now must surely have towards himself.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Tell me, Lucy.  What have you
    learned from Miss May?  What areas of magic has she educated you
    in?’  ‘Different things, I guess.  Probably the same as
    the other student’s she has taught.’  Grimlock nodded at
    that information.  ‘Yes, I imagine she would.  Miss May
    is known in the Tasmanian community for her innovative work in
    animistic wizardry.  This field is most old, but has been
    untouched by the greater magical community for a while now. 
    Dark powers, you see.  Dark powers often are attracted to
    animistic wizardry.’  ‘Why is that, Mr Grimlock?’ 
    ‘Well, as I assume your teacher has taught you, Animism involves
    spirits.  Not all magic is based around living spirits – in
    fact, in practice, very little these days.  Dark wizards,
    however, do often employ demonic forces to assist them in their
    endeavours.  Our culture is replete with such legends, of which
    I would assume you may have seen some old movies involving such
    things as incantations summoning demons.  Lucy nodded. 
    ‘Yes.  Supernatural on TV goes on about stuff like that.’ 
    Grimlock nodded, also aware of the television show.  ‘Well,
    the animistic spirit realm has many dark spirits inhabiting it. 
    When magic is involved on a regular basis, word is often carried to
    the darker powers.  It is a reason why such an area of magic is
    often shied away from in our modern culture.  But, nonetheless,
    it is there, as it has always been.’  ‘Shelandragh has never
    talked about any problems around here involving dark spirits? 
    It has not been a problem for me?’  ‘Yes.  I have
    noticed that myself.  I have sensed that this immediate area for
    a number of kilometres is enveloped in a spiritual haven, as it
    were.  There are forces – binding spiritual forces – which
    make the outer realms unaware of the activities here.’  Darren
    nodded at that information.  ‘I am surprised you have noticed
    that, Grimlock.’  ‘Yes.  I was aware after a few days
    of living in Cooma.’  ‘So we won’t have any problems with
    these dark spirits, then?’  asked Lucy, innocently. 
    ‘No.  I would imagine not, young Miss Lucy.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Shelandragh entered the room, carrying
    a tray with 4 mugs and some biscuits upon them.  ‘I have made
    tea for each of us.  I have not added the milk, but you can add
    that yourself.  It is in this jug.’  ‘I thank you
    kindly, Miss May.  Your hospitality is most appreciated.’ 
    Shelandragh nodded at Grimlock’s words.  ‘How is your store
    coming along, Mr Grimlock,’ Shelandragh asked him.  ‘Oh –
    the usual fare for a new store.  I sell many candles, charms,
    and much jewellery items, which was my usual source of income in
    Hobart.  Most customers like magical iconography rather than
    taking a great interest in the arts themselves.  Although I have
    sold a number of books on magic as well.  Mostly introductory
    texts.’  Shelandragh nodded.  ‘Well, I will most
    definitely be visiting your store quite soon.  Probably tomorrow
    morning, if you are open at that time.’  ‘Yes.  I live
    in the flat above the store, and am often downstairs early in the
    morning.  I am quite happy to welcome people if I am up.’ 
    Grimlock took a sip of tea from his mug.  ‘Mmm.  Is this
    earl grey?  It tastes a little different.  A little
    softer.’  ‘It is Lady Grey, Mr Grimlock.’  ‘Lady
    Grey?  They have Lady Grey?’  ‘Yes.  For quite a
    while now, actually.’  Grimlock nodded.  ‘I will have
    to make a purchase of some.  Is there any available in Cooma?’ 
    ‘I order mine from England, but there are usually packets available
    in Cooma and Canberra.  I have a spare box if you would like to
    take some.’  ‘Thank you kindly, Miss May.  That would
    be most appreciated.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Grimlock turned to Lucy.  ‘Lucy. 
    Are you a full-blood or a half-blood?’  ‘I am a half-blood,
    Mr Grimlock.  My father was gifted in the art, but mum is a
    Muggles.’  ‘I see.  In the old world there is still
    some discrimination towards half-bloods.  Most primitive, in my
    view.  We should be grateful for all those who develop talent in
    the arts, whatever their lineage.  I, myself, am a half-blood
    also.  My father was a gifted wizard, but not given to much in
    the way of actually practicing his art.  He settled with mother
    for a regular life, coming out to Australia just before I was born. 
    He has passed on now, and so has mother.  He did not make much
    of a fuss over magical things, but did explain my giftings to me when
    I was 10.  He had never intended me to pursue magic as a career,
    but I felt drawn to it in my teens.  And now it is my major
    preoccupation.  Something which fills in most of my time.’ 
    ‘Tell me, Mr Merryweather.  Are you married?  Do you have
    any children?’  ‘Er, no.  Not married.  I did have
    a wife, once.  But she died a few weeks after our marriage in a
    car accident.’  ‘Oh, I am so sorry, Mr Grimlock.’ 
    ‘Thank you.  Yes, Matilda was dear to my heart.  She was
    a muggles, like mother, but kind and sweet.  My better half, for
    those few days.  My better half in so many ways.’  ‘I
    pray she sings with the angels, Mr Grimlock.’  Said
    Shelandragh.  ‘I do hope you are right, Miss May.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Later on, while the four of them were
    in the back yard with young Lucy riding around on Silver’s back, Mr
    Grimlock excused himself from his conversation with Darren and
    Shelandragh to go and speak with Lucy.  ‘So, Miss Potter. 
    How do you feel you are developing in the arts?  How do you feel
    your talent is coming along?’  ‘Alright, I think, Mr
    Grimlock.’  ‘Have you actually cast any animistic spells?’ 
    ‘A few.  I cast Hydros Conflagius at my home a few weeks
    ago.’  ‘Hydros Conflagius,’ said Mr Grimlock, his eyebrow
    tilted.  ‘Yes.  And a little sprite gushed water all over
    me.  It was very embarrassing.’  ‘I could imagine,’
    said Mr Grimlock.  ‘Has Miss May given you any knowledge of
    the dark spells?  I assume with someone your age she would have
    only mentioned them.’  ‘Well, actually, I have been thinking
    about creating my own spell.  I have learned about spell
    creation, and though about creating a spell called Shadorius
    Tempest.  It is based on an idea I got from an Asatru book
    called ‘Born of Thunder’.  ‘You have read ‘Born of
    Thunder’, said Mr Grimlock, a spark in his voice.  ‘Not all
    of it.  I am nearly finished, though.’  ‘Mmm.  I
    guess Shadorius Tempest is somehow based on the Shadow Storm?’ 
    ‘Yes.  That is were I got the idea.  How did you know?’ 
    ‘Oh, I read greatly on pagan mythology.   ‘Born of
    Thunder’ is a very popular new work in the pagan community. 
    So tell me.  How would you go about creating such a spell? 
    Are you aware of the basics of spell-creation?’  ‘Well,
    Shelandragh has shared with me the basic idea for how it is done. 
    How to create spiritual energy in the spiritual realm and harness
    is.  I have the books with the ‘Shados’ and ‘Shados Redux’
    spells, which I think if I combine with the ‘Tempest’ part of
    ‘Aquarius Tempest’ I should be able to create the spell. 
    Grimlock nodded, quite impressed by the obvious well thought out
    logic the young lady had shown.  ‘Well, Lucy.  If you
    would like, I could help you to create that spell.  I have
    created a number of spells, myself, and would be most willing to help
    you to create this one, if you so desire.  I would only be so
    happy to assist such ambition as you have shown.’  ‘Well, I
    guess so.  But when?’  ‘Mmm.  Well, I would not
    want to interfere with the lessons between you and Shelandragh. 
    But if you would like to visit my shop in Cooma sometimes, we could
    go upstairs to my flat to work on the spell.’  ‘Well if my
    mum says its okay, then sure.’  ‘Oh, of course. 
    Naturally I will introduce myself to your mother so that she can get
    to know me.  I tell you what.  Why don’t I come and see
    your mother when you have finished here.  I am free for the rest
    of the day and night, so it will not be a problem to me.’ 
    ‘Okay.  Mum will pick me up at 6.00 tonight.  You could
    introduce yourself to her then.’  Grimlock nodded, satisfied
    with that information.  ‘That would be most ideal, young
    Lucy.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    A little after 6.00, Caroline arrived
    at Shelandragh’s place.  Grimlock introduced himself and
    inquired into the possibility of also teaching Lucy some principles
    of magic.  Caroline had inquired of Shelandragh wether this was
    alright.  Darren had voiced some minor concerns, but Shelandragh
    had stated that Caroline was the one to decide on such an issue. 
    But she had stated that she had no objection to Mr Grimlock likewise
    teaching young Lucy.  Caroline had asked wether Lucy would like
    to study with Mr Grimlock as well, to which Lucy had nodded in the
    affirmative.  ‘Well, okay then.  That’s alright with
    me.’  Lucy had smiled, pleased at the news.  Mr Grimlock
    had smiled also, seemingly also pleased with the news.  Quite
    pleased.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘I think, Alfric, that more caution
    is now needed.  Grimlock has been successful in gaining lessons
    with Lucy, and although we still have nothing concrete on him, there
    is really no telling what he could teach her.’  ‘And these
    lessons are to be a private affair, Darren?  You could not
    possibly sit in?’  ‘Perhaps.  I don’t think Lucy
    would mind, but Grimlock may object.  And I am not really in a
    strong enough position to influence Caroline on the issue yet. 
    I am not quite sure what to do about the issue.’  Alfric
    paused before continuing.  ‘Perhaps a few subtle, but mind you
    subtle, words to Lucy to be a little cautious about Grimlock. 
    Suggest to her that with new teachers it is important to be careful
    and sound them out.  She will probably think you are advising of
    ‘beware of strangers’ or some such similar lesson.  I am
    sure she will listen to what you have to say.’  ‘Yes, that
    sounds like a good idea.  I will go with that then. 
    Thanks.’  ‘Well, keep in touch.  I will call you on
    your mobile again in a few days for an update.  And, finally,
    now that Grimlock has moved to Cooma and is teaching Lucy I feel that
    your tenure with young Miss Potter is to be as I said previously of
    an indefinite nature.  You can probably write in at least 5 or 6
    years worth of living in Cooma into your diary.  We want to keep
    our eyes on this lass.  If Grimlock has any negative influence,
    she will have to be nurtured away from those elements.  It is
    your responsibility, Darren.  A young lady’s future is at
    steak.’  ‘Okay, Alfric.  Talk to you later.’ 
    ‘bye.’  Darren placed his mobile phone back in his pocket,
    and continued driving along the highway back to his flat in Cooma.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Pulling into the long driveway up to
    his flat, he thought on his ward, young Lucy.  She was a bright
    young lady, so mature for someone so young.  And intelligent
    too.  But Shelandragh had stated that much of this was to do
    with her mother’s influence and careful teaching.  Lucy had
    potential.  Great potential.  One day, as Alfric had
    stated, she may indeed find a place on the Australian Ministry of
    Magic, if she so desired.  What appeared to be her fine grooming
    by her mother, and obvious personal abilities, spoke of potentially
    one of the ministries early heroes.  The ministry in Australia
    was not old.  Not even a century.  And as such it was still
    establishing itself in a sense.  Young Lucy had, if she wanted
    it, the opportunity to establish herself in the halls of fame amongst
    the magical community of Australia.  Too be one of the more
    memorable and prominent figures in the lore of Australian magic. 
    And as a Potter, if her lineage ever became well known, fame
    internationally as well.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Climbing up the white steps to his
    flat, and taking the door on the right, Darren entered his abode. 
    It was pretty basic.  A main living room, with an adjoining
    kitchenette.  Also a single bedroom and bathroom.  There
    was a laundry around the back of the flats, but Darren had been using
    the local laundrette just a little walk down Sharp street from his
    flat.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    After having a basic microwave meal,
    Darren picked up one of the books he had been reading.  It was a
    book about the Cooma region he had bought from a shop on Vale
    street.  One of the shop attendants, Hugo, had suggested it when
    he had been looking for books about Cooma.  He had been reading
    about the history of the town, which was known as the gateway to the
    snowy mountains.  Lambie street was the oldest section of Cooma,
    just down the road from where he lived.  He had visited an art
    gallery on that street a couple of days after arriving. 
    Opposite his flat when looking out the main windows was nanny goat
    hill.  He had climbed the hill a few days ago, and noticed a
    concrete nanny goat near the lookout at the top.  He wondered to
    himself just how many kids had played with that nanny-goat, which was
    the kind of thing he would have done as a child.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    The hill, being in the centre of town,
    also seemed the kind of place were youths of the town might go on
    Saturday nights to drink beer and get wasted.  Although, the
    pubs seemed to service most of this, he suspected that under-agers
    might occasionally frequent the place.  He actually found
    himself liking Cooma quite a lot.  It was similar to many
    country towns throughout Australia, typical for its region really. 
    The general animistic spirits for the region seemed appropriate and
    not out of place.  A nice fresh feel.  The kind of place,
    he felt, were family could be safely raised.  Away from some of
    the more savage places like Sydney and Melbourne, which were often a
    challenge for some people.  Most of the suburbs were okay, but
    the inner cities could often be dangerous, especially at night. 
    He doubted that Cooma really had any such great problems.  Of
    course, the incident in the park was alarming, but through
    conversations he’d had it seemed such events were rare, life
    usually going on at a steady country-town pace.  Yes, perhaps
    one day, if family came his way, Cooma might make an ideal place to
    raise family.  He had a girlfriend, sort of, in Sydney, who he
    saw every few months.  She was single and said she didn’t need
    a lot of male companionship, but enjoyed his company whenever he
    turned up.  Carol was very preoccupied with her career at the
    moment, and was not ready for settling down to family.  She was
    in a large carpeting company, which had a number of storefronts
    around Sydney.  She worked in the main office, just under the
    Area manager.  It was busy and demanding work, and she worked
    very hard to keep her job and the good pay packet that went with it. 
    Darren’s pay packet was not that substantial in comparison. 
    The ministry was funded partially private by the magical community,
    and with a secret government fund as well.  The Prime Minister
    and certain other secret personnel within the Government and its
    agencies had knowledge of the Ministry, but it was on high level
    intelligence status, protected by various confidential information
    Acts.  A great deal of funding, due to the necessity to keep the
    ministries affairs away from prying eyes was not really possible, but
    with the other income, it was still a reasonable wage.  In a
    sense, working in the ministry was a calling or a devotion.  It
    was not a job to make huge amounts of money.  In the private
    market, magic, to the right customer, could earn quite a deal. 
    But for those in the arts who valued the sense of tradition and
    importance that magic brought to the community, a more serious
    occupation was often sought.  It was such an occupation that
    Darren, after a number of stints at various things in his early
    twenties, had eventually gravitated too.  And it seemed that it
    had security, which was always appealing – as well as long term
    prospects for advancement.  It was, for Mr Merryweather, a
    sensible choice in occupation, and one in which he found calm
    satisfaction.  Often eventful but, yes, calm satisfaction. 
    
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Chapter Nine
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘The Secret Chamber’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Well, fortunately the spell worked. 
    Nobody disturbed the Dragon’s body after I cast the ‘Vanishos’
    spell, and when I saw the body this morning it was all intact. 
    The remains are here in this vase.’  Shelandragh showed to
    Darren a black vase, quite big, containing the ashes of the Golden
    Ridged Wyvvern.’  ‘What are you going to do with the Ashes?’
    asked Lucy.  ‘I think, Lucy, out of respect for our fallen
    foe, we lay them to rest in her home – the cavern were she slept
    under Canberra.’  ‘Oh.  Can I come?’  ‘If your
    mother does not mind.  We will go tomorrow morning.  If you
    are here before 8.00  we will head off then.  Do you want
    to tag along Darren?’  ‘Should prove interesting.  My
    new book is progressing slowly, so I often have free time.  I
    can come.’  Lucy smiled, pleased at Darren words.  Darren
    had told Lucy that much of his work involved writing, which was not
    technically a lie, as he was in fact slowly working on a book of
    magic, which was, however, used as a ruse or excuse to Lucy to
    explain how he spent his time.  ‘I have a lantern in my flat. 
    Is the journey long?’  ‘About 15 kilometres, there and 15
    back, and only by foot.  It will take us all day, and much of
    the night.  However, once we get into the heart of the cave,
    about a kilometre of travelling down, the going is alright.  Not
    too difficult.  We will need a few lanterns, and many wicks and
    kerosene.  I will prepare a packed lunch for all of us, which we
    can eat when we arrive in the main cavern.  I want to spread the
    ashes and pray a short prayer when we get there.  Lucy, it will
    be okay if you look around the main cavern a little.  But there
    is probably not really anything to look at.  Wyvvern’s, this
    kind anyway, do not really collect any possessions, so there will
    probably be a bunch of bones and little else.  But you are free
    to look around.’  Lucy smiled, looking forward to the
    morning’s adventure.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Standing in front of Minoxxia, Lucy
    looked at the early morning traffic.  Bunyan was a small hutlet,
    just out of Cooma, but many travellers left for Canberra from Cooma
    each morning along the Monaro highway.  It was just a little
    after 7.00, her mother having just dropped her off.  Shelandragh
    had asked her to stand outside and wait for Darren, who had rung her
    to say he would be arriving at a quarter past seven.  There were
    no clouds in the sky that morning.  It would probably be a warm
    day, as spring was nearly over with, and Summer was approaching. 
    Australia had many hot places in Summer from what she remembered from
    her early days travels, but Bunyan had reasonable weather.  It
    wasn’t too hot in Summer, although the winter’s could be chilly,
    as they were near the Snowy mountains were it snowed in winter. 
    But it suited Lucy to live in Chakola, which was just a little away
    from Bunyan.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    She heard a car horn honking, and
    looked up the road to see Darren’s four wheel drive pulling up. 
    ‘Shelandragh.  Darren’s hear,’ she yelled. 
    Shelandragh appeared a few moments later, with a large hammock, and
    some lanterns.  Darren got out of the car and opened the boot. 
    ‘I have a few things packed for our trip, Shelandragh.’  He
    pushed some bags towards the back seat, making room for Shelandragh’s
    hammock and lanterns.  ‘I would like to get some petrol at
    Bredbo, and you can get a drink there if you like Lucy.’  ‘As
    long as its Coke.’  ‘As long as its Coke,’ Darren
    repeated.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy sat on a bench in Bredbo park,
    drinking her Coke.  Bredbo was up the road from Chakola, before
    Michelago.  It was a bit larger than Michelago, but not a big
    town – more of a village.  She had been there a number of
    times, usually with her mother, who had a friend who lived there. 
    The village was called the city of Poplars, as a large number of
    Poplar trees were scattered throughout the village.  It was a
    quiet town, which suited Lucy, something which living in Chakola she
    had grown accustomed to.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Come on Lucy, time to go.’ 
    Lucy got up in response to Shelandragh’s call, and made her way
    over to the car.  When they had gotten under way again,
    Shelandragh began explaining how they would get to the cave. 
    ‘We can take the back road to Tharwa, just at Williamsdale, and
    there are number of tracks we can take from the Tidbinbilla tracking
    station.  I don’t think we will be seen, but I think much of
    the land leading up to the Brindabellas is private property.  We
    will have to walk the few kilometres from the tracking stations as I
    don’t know of any roads we can take.’  Darren nodded, taking
    in that news.  ‘Whereabouts is the cave?’   ‘About
    halfway up the Brindies.  They are not a big mountain range, as
    you might know, and are not difficult to climb.  The cave is
    likely well known these days, and is probably a popular destination
    for cavers.  I haven’t really looked into any established ways
    for getting to the cave, but I don’t think we need to worry about a
    one-off visit.  If anyone catches us and asks what we are doing
    we will simply say we are visiting the cave.  I’m sure it will
    be okay.’  ‘It’ll be fine, Shelandragh.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Of course, when I first visited the
    cave, it was still generally a secret chamber which only the
    aborigines knew about, as it was hidden by many trees.  But it
    has become known about for a number of years now.’  The three
    of them had just started climbing up the Brindabellas, heading for
    the once secret chamber.  Shelandragh had been sharing with
    Darren and Lucy her tale of her first visit to the cave a number of
    years ago.  Lucy had been listening intently, especially to the
    part were Shelandragh had come upon the dragon.  ‘We will be
    all day, of course, travelling to the chamber and back, but we will
    rest every hour Lucy.  I am sure, while you will be exhausted by
    days end, you will not regret the journey.’  ‘I am sure I
    will be okay, Shelandragh.  I walk a lot to Chakola from Bunyan,
    and am used to long walks.  I can make it.’  ‘Let’s
    hope so, young lady,’ said Darren, who was dreading the thought of
    carrying an exhausted young Lucy back when she was too tired to walk
    on.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    About 20 minutes later they had arrived
    at the entrance to the cave, which was quite large, but hidden by a
    cleft in the mountain.  Shelandragh readied the Lantern’s,
    lighting them, and handing one each to Darren and Lucy.  She
    placed the hammock she had been carrying down near the entrance to
    the cave and removed items of food and drink from them.  ‘If
    you carry these in your backpacks, it will be easier for all of us,’
    she said, handing to Lucy and Darren each of the lunch-packs she had
    prepared.  Lucy and Darren placed the lunches in their
    backpacks, Lucy taking a sip of water from her drink bottle. 
    ‘Well, lets get going.  Darren, if you will.’  Darren
    led the way down into the cave, and their day’s adventure began in
    earnest.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    After a couple of hours of stalagmites
    and stalactites, and even the occasional bat, Lucy was getting
    tired.  ‘It is a long trip, Lucy.  But I am sure you will
    be grateful for it one day.  It will prove a valuable memory for
    yourself.’  Lucy nodded, encouraged at Shelandragh’s words. 
    The trio broke for a 5 minute rest, and then started again. 
    Lucy thought on the day’s walk ahead of her and momentarily
    regretted her decision to join Shelandragh and Darren.  But she
    changed her mind and thought that, as Shelandragh had said, it may
    prove an interesting memory one day.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    About 7 hours later, they finally
    arrived at the cavern of the Dragon.  There had only been minor
    caves on their journey, the route usually pretty easy to follow. 
    Darren had inquired as to why nobody had ever found the dragon, as he
    had assumed the cave would have been explored regularly. 
    ‘Actually, I am guilty of that not being well known.  When I
    first found the dragon, I placed a spell at the entrance of the cave
    later to show a deep abyss and a solid wall across from the abyss. 
    It took me half a day of solid witchcraft to prepare all the
    necessary deception spells to confuse any potential investigators
    upon finding the abyss.  I have never noted any one talk of the
    dragon on the news, so it would seem my spells were successful.’ 
    ‘But Canberra has been settled for a number of years now. 
    Exactly how long ago did you cast these spells,’ asked Darren, his
    curiousity arisen.  ‘Mmm.  Perhaps you should ask Alfric
    about that,’ said Shelandragh, giving Lucy a little wink.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Entering the cavern Lucy began
    exploring.  As Shelandragh had stated, there were a number of
    bones around the cavern, perhaps Kangaroo, and perhaps even human, so
    Lucy thought.  But nothing out of the ordinary.  The dragon
    had made a nest out of old branches which she had presumably carried
    into the chamber.  ‘It would have probably taken her a few
    days worth of work to build this nest, Lucy.  But I guess she
    would have preferred the privacy of the cave for her long slumber.’ 
    ‘Yes, they sleep a millennia, don’t they?’ asked Lucy. 
    ‘That’s right.  This is mostly peculiar to this breed of
    Wyvvern, and some other magical creatures as well.  Certain
    breeds of Cockatrice often sleep near 2 millennia, so I have been
    told.  ‘Aye.  2000 years!’ exclaimed Darren. 
    ‘2000 years of Grand finals to catch up on,’ he said further.
    ‘Not to mention the soaps.’ Said Shelandragh sarcastically, in
    response, which made Lucy smile a little.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    I guess we can have our main
    lunch-break now, and then I will scatter the ashes and say a little
    prayer.  The three of them sat down near the nest, and opened up
    their backpacks.   Munching through a Nutella sandwich,
    drinking on her orange juice, Lucy thought on the giant nest and the
    dragon it would have homed.  Of course, it was Goldie and
    Silver’s mother who nested there.  Sleeping for a whole
    thousand years must have brought her so many dreams, Lucy thought to
    herself, if Wyvvern’s ever dreamed.  She knew from her
    mother’s education that bears hibernated through winter, so she
    assumed this was something similar for Wyvvern’s.  ‘In case
    you were wondering, Lucy, Wyvvern’s metabolism slow down to
    virtually non-existent during their long hibernation,’ said
    Shelandragh.  ‘They digest their food extremely slowly, which
    is stored in fat cells throughout their body.  You know in those
    Star Wars movies that you like, the one were Han Solo is frozen.’ 
    ‘Yes,’ Lucy nodded.  ‘Well it is perhaps something similar
    to that idea.  They are quite okay when in their long
    hibernation.  It is a time for them to refresh and recharge. 
    They come alive for about a decade in between hibernating, and that
    time they are savagely preoccupied with the things of life –
    hunting and eating, mating and whatever other things Wyvvern’s get
    up to.’  ‘Were are Wyvvern’s from?’ asked Lucy. 
    ‘From Terra, Lucy.  That is were they originate from.’ 
    ‘Were is Terra,’ she asked again.  ‘Oh, I had thought I
    had told you that.  Terra is an ancient name for the earth,
    which many people from the old world identify as the great central
    land mass on our planet.  Africa, Asia and Europe all actually
    form one great land block.  It is, sort of, one really big
    island.  I have often known it to be called ‘Terra.’ 
    ‘Yes,’ said Lucy.  ‘I have often thought that all of those
    continents were really just one big island.  Australians often
    say that Australia is the biggest island in the world, but those
    three continents together are really an island, I think.’  ‘It
    depends on the technicalities of your definition of an island, Lucy. 
    But for a land mass totally surrounded by water, which is a common
    definition for an island, it does seem to fit.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    A little while later, after they had
    finished their lunches, Shelandragh took the black vase out of her
    backpack, and undid the cork plug which was in the top.  She
    looked at Lucy.  ‘Would you like to scatter the ashes around
    the nest?’  ‘Oh, okay,’ said Lucy a little nervously. 
    She took the vase and looked at Shelandragh.  ‘What do I do?’ 
    Just tip the vase downwards and spread the ashes around the nest a
    little.  When you are finished I will pray a short prayer to
    God.’  Lucy tilted the vase downwards slowly, and ashes
    started pouring out.  She carefully clambered through the nest,
    spreading the ashes, and when the vase was empty, she returned to
    Shelandragh.  ‘Try placing the vase in the nest.  It may
    be a suitable memorial stone.’  Lucy did so.  Coming back
    and standing next to Shelandragh, Lucy asked, ‘Should we bow her
    heads?’  ‘Yes, I think that is a good idea.’  The
    three of them bowed their heads and a short while later Shelandragh
    began praying.  ‘Father God.  We ask you to welcome the
    soul of this Wyvvern to the place where she is supposed to go. 
    Assure her we had no ill feeling toward her and that we only did what
    we felt we had to in the circumstances.  Bless her in her new
    home and let her know we will be taking care of her children. 
    We sincerely pray this.  Amen.’  Lucy opened her eyes,
    and looked at the nest.  ‘Hopefully she is resting happily,’
    said Darren.  ‘Hopefully,’ agreed Shelandragh.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Later on, Darren’s arms aching from
    the sleeping Lucy in his arms, having occasionally remarked to
    Shelandragh his new possible occupation as a prophet, having
    predicted to himself the girls later complaints of exhaustion, he and
    Shelandragh finally arrived back at the Tidbinbilla tracking
    station.  ‘Look, Shelandragh.  I know it is only an
    hour’s drive down to Chakola, but we may be able to spend the night
    at Alfric’s in Deakin.  That is much closer, and I am sure he
    will not mind.’  ‘If you think its okay, Darren.  I
    wouldn’t want to bother the minister though unannounced.’ 
    ‘I am sure he won’t mind.  And it may actually be a good
    opportunity for him to meet Lucy.  That is, if she gets up in
    the morning.’  ‘Well, okay.  It is fine by me.’ 
    Darren nodded, and carefully placed the sleeping Lucy in the back
    seat, buckling her up.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    About 20 minutes later they had arrived
    at Alfric’s place, which was in the suburb of Deakin in the heart
    of Canberra, very near Parliament House.  The porch light had
    come on when they had pulled up, and shortly after Alfric appeared,
    dressed in pyjamas and a dressing gown.  ‘Darren, is that
    you?’  ‘Hey Alfric.  We have a sleeping Miss Potter,
    and we didn’t fancy the long trip back to Chakola.  Is it okay
    if we spend the night here.’   ‘Of course,’ replied
    Alfric.  ‘A very good idea, actually, as I would greatly enjoy
    making acquaintances with young Miss Potter.  Hello
    Shelandragh.  Good to see you again.’  ‘Hello Alfric. 
    How is Esthelle?’  ‘Happy as ever.  She is still up,
    watching the tennis.  She will be happy to see you again.’ 
    Darren, carefully carrying the sleeping Lucy in his arms, walked up
    the short rampway to Alfric’s back door and entered the house. 
    ‘This way, Darren.’  Alfric led the way down a hall to a
    bedroom with 2 single beds in it.’  ‘This should be fine for
    Lucy and Shelandragh.  There is another guest room were you can
    sleep, Darren.’  Shelandragh opened up the quilts on the bed,
    and Darren carefully laid the sleeping Lucy down.’  ‘I will
    leave all of the undressing business to you, Shelandragh.’ 
    Shelandragh nodded knowingly, and closed the door behind the
    departing Darren and Alfric.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Walking down the hall, Alfric brought
    Darren into his den.  ‘I won’t disturb Esthelle.  She
    can see you all in the morning.  Your room is just opposite
    Lucy’s.  There are towels in the cupboard along the hallway if
    you want to shower.  I am sure you know were the bathroom is.’ 
    ‘Down the hall to the left, as I recall.’  ‘That’s
    right.  Well, why are you here tonight?  Been out
    partying?’  ‘Not really.  We spent the day travelling
    to the Dragon’s cavern.  Lucy spread out the ashes of the
    dragon which Shelandragh had collected, and Shelandragh prayed a
    short prayer to send the spirit of the dragon of to whatever
    afterlife dragons’ believe in.’  ‘That is pleasing. 
    Of course, as you probably know, we have very little magical creature
    folk in Australia.  Some Bunyips and Yowies, and a few other
    notable creatures.  But Dragon’s rarely frequent this place. 
    I am glad this particular beast did not cause too many problems.’ 
    ‘Yes, it could have been difficult.’  ‘Well, I will let
    you get some sleep, Darren.  I am sure you can look after
    yourself.  Good night.’  Alfric patted Darren on the
    back, and exited the room, making his way back towards the television
    room he had come from were, presumably, Esthelle was still watching
    television.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Darren walked down the hall, took a
    towel, and knocked on Shelandragh’s door.  She opened a few
    moments later.  ‘I will have a shower now, if that’s okay.
     I won’t use all the hot water.’  Shelandragh nodded. 
    ‘Okay.  Sleep well Darren.  Good night.’  ‘Yes,
    good night,’ echoed Darren.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    A little later, Darren having gotten
    into the single bed in his room opposite Shelandragh, he thought on
    the day’s walk.  He was exhausted, but the memories for young
    Lucy seemed also worth his exhaustion to him, as well as Shelandragh
    and, hopefully, young miss Lucy.
    
    
    
    
    Chapter Ten
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘The Azkerbahnian Prisoner’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘So you see, Miss Potter, the
    Ministry of Magic is of grave importance to the Australian wizard and
    witch community.  The responsibilities we undertake ensure a
    harmonious magical community were each wizard and witch can carry out
    their craft secure in the knowledge that the guild, as it was often
    called in days of old, is looking after their welfare and ensuring a
    continuation of the much enjoyed status quo.’  Young Miss
    Potter, sitting eating a piece of toast, occasionally sipping on the
    glass of orange juice in front of her, intently listened to Master
    Alfric’s words of education and encouragement regarding the
    Ministry of Magic.  He had explained the basic purpose the
    ministry served, that of overseeing and regulating codes of
    behaviour, rulings on laws of government relating to authorized use
    of magic, maintenance of the positive role of white witchery and
    wizardry and a number of other such matters.  It had given Miss
    Lucy a better understanding of how she, a young witch learning the
    craft, fitted into the bigger world picture.  And inspired her a
    little as well, thinking on the possible opportunities her education
    could one day give to her.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Tell me, young Lucy.  Have you
    given much thought to your future?  Have you yet considered a
    possible future occupation.’  Lucy thought on that for a
    moment before responding.  ‘A bit, master Alfric.  Mum
    suggests that I study some sort of degree when I am old enough, but
    has left the choice of degree to myself to consider.  She said
    if I want to do anything in magic, it is up to me to work out for
    myself.’  Alfric nodded, happy with the words.  ‘Yes,
    life these days does have so many opportunities.  For a young
    child so dedicated to education as yourself, there is no limit to the
    kind of occupation or career you could choose.  However, should
    you choose to pursue a career in magic, I would have you know that we
    at the Ministry of Magic would strongly consider offering you a
    position in the Ministry at a suitable age.  That is if you were
    interested.’  Lucy looked at Shelandragh a little startled,
    and looked back at Alfric.  ‘Work in the ministry!’ she
    exclaimed.  ‘Gosh.  That would be awesome.’  ‘Mind
    you, young lady.  You would have to be most dedicated to your
    studies.  We do not like slouches here in the Ministry of
    Magic.’  ‘Oh, Lucy is far from being a slouch,’ said
    Shelandragh.  ‘A little rebellious at times – or perhaps
    more strong willed – but not a slouch.  Far from being a
    slouch.’  ‘Quite true,’ echoed Darren.  ‘She is a
    very dedicated soul,’ stated Mr Merryweather.  Lucy blushed a
    little at all the apparent flattery.  ‘But I have a lot of
    study in front of me first.’  ‘Quite true, young Lucy,’
    said Alfric.  ‘A firm education is the foundation for an
    excellent life.  Success is achieved through knowledge. 
    Without a good education you will not often go that far.  There
    are exceptions, naturally, but the highest levels of success in life
    are achieved through a sound education.  It is an undeniable
    truth of our culture.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Later on, travelling down the highway
    back to Chakola, Lucy thought on Alfric’s words.  Education
    was a major preoccupation for her mother in raising herself. 
    She pushed Lucy constantly to achieve as highly as she could. 
    Lucy knew, as she had known from a young age, that it was how success
    was achieved in life.  And she had chosen to stick to her
    studies and continue with them as best she could because, whatever
    else life may offer, having success in it seemed at least as good as
    an approach as any other.  So felt young Miss Lucy Potter.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Grimlock looked at the white-haired
    freak before him.  Long hair, beard and moustache, a long scar
    running down the left hand side of his face, and what could only be
    described as a manic expression on his face.  And although
    Lucifer Malfoy was an ambassador of his dark Lord, the just escaped
    Azkerbahnian prisoner made him enormously nervous.  Secondborn
    of a set of identical triplets, Lucifer was one of the most hated
    warlocks from the old world.  He had been sentenced to life in
    Azkerbahn for wicked deeds which even shocked the Malevolent
    Grimlock, and he was most disturbed finding Lucifer now in his
    presence.  ‘The steak is good.  More,’ Lucifer grunted
    to Grimlock.  Grimlock went to his kitchenette and using a fork
    skewered another piece of fried steak and came over to were Lucifer
    was sitting, placing it on his plate.  Lucifer, finishing off
    the piece he was eating, took a drink of the beer in front of him,
    and started the next piece.  When he was finally finished, he
    burped and wiped his mouth with his shirt sleeve.  ‘My, we
    have good manner’s, don’t we,’ mocked Grimlock savagely. 
    ‘Fuck you, Grimlock,’ replied Malfoy.  ‘Temper, temper. 
    You must really watch that.  However, as you are already an
    escaped prisoner I assume you may not even care,’ said Grimlock. 
    ‘So you better watch yourself, bastard,’ replied Lucifer. 
    Grimlock sat down opposite Lucifer at his table.  ‘So for what
    godforsaken reason could you possibly have for coming all the way
    here to Australia.’  ‘Best place not to be seen.  I
    don’t think they will recognize me here.  Good place to
    hide.’  ‘Perhaps.  But there is a ministry of magic
    worker who lives here in Cooma.  If he recognizes you, your
    cover may be blown.’  ‘What’s his name.  I’ll kill
    him.’  ‘Yes, you probably would, wouldn’t you.  As
    bad as Lucius is, I must really say you make him a saint in
    comparison.’  ‘Fuck off.’  Grimlock continued
    unperturbed.  ‘In fact, you are probably the black sheep in
    the family, which for a Malfoy is saying quite a lot.’ 
    Lucifer grinned at the comment.  ‘Yeh. Yeh, I reckon I am
    probably the black sheep.  Suits me, though.  Lucius is a
    pretty-boy.  Always carrying that fucking pretentious cain. 
    Something’s up his butt.’  ‘Most affectionate towards your
    older brother, aren’t you.,’ said Grimlock.  ‘Fuck off. 
    Yeh, I suppose.  Lucas is the only normal one of the three of
    us.  Hates me and Lucius for our dark ways, of course. 
    Buggered off to America years ago, wanting nothing to do with us. 
    Got a letter before I was sent to prison from him.  Told me all
    was well – usual bullshit.  But its his life.  He can
    live it as a candy-ass yankee if he wants.  Don’t bother me.’ 
    ‘Candy-ass yankee?’ queried Grimlock.  ‘Ah, the yanks are
    full of it.  Always think they rule the world.  Power mad,
    Americans are.  Power mad.’  ‘Perhaps an exaggeration,
    I think, Lucifer.’  ‘Nah.  Just what I see.  So
    were does this ministry man live.  I will pay him a visit. 
    Have a few words.’  ‘Mr Merryweather lives just up the road
    a little on Sharp street.  But he is usually out at Bunyan or
    Chakola with a young Miss Lucy Potter, who the dark lord has asked me
    to turn to the darkside.’  ‘Right.  Bunyan, Chakola. 
    Were are they?’  ‘Oh, just out of town on the road to
    Canberra.  Quite easy to find.’  ‘Addresses?’ 
    Grimlock took a pad which was sitting on the table in front of him
    and taking a pen from his pocket wrote out the addresses to
    Shelandragh May’s house and Lucy’s address.  ‘I would
    stress, Lucifer.  Do not kill Lucy.  Our master would be
    most displeased.’  ‘Sure.  I’ll just have some fun
    with Mr Merryweather.’  ‘Have your pleasure, cretin. 
    Have your pleasure.’  ‘Fuck you.  I am mostly out of
    cash.  Have any?  I will taxi it to these places.’ 
    Grimlock walked over to a cupboard and took out a number of hundred
    dollar bills.  ‘Here.  Take these,’ he said, handing
    Lucifer 7 hundred dollar bills.  ‘It should be plenty to last
    you a while.  If you need more, come back.  The master has
    practically limitless funds available, as you probably know.’ 
    ‘Yeh, thanks.  Any brothels nearby?’  ‘Mmm.  Yes
    you do appear to be the type.’  In Canberra there is a number
    of establishments.  I am sure you and your manhood will be able
    to find them.’  ‘Yeh.  Me and my manhood like finding a
    piece of flesh.  What the hell else is there in life anyway.’ 
    ‘A very good question, Mr Malfoy.  A very good question.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    A short while later, Lucifer had left
    Grimlock’s abode, much to Grimlock’s relief.  Lucifer had
    smelled quite bad, not surprising given his state of dress. 
    He’d probably had little chance to change since escaping from
    Azkerbahn, and had not seemingly showered since.  Thankfully,
    though, the cretinous soul had now left.  But he was useful. 
    If he did in fact manage to eliminate the bothersome Mr Merryweather,
    Grimlock would be silently pleased at an irritating adversary in his
    master-plan removed.  It would make his agenda with young Miss
    Lucy Potter much more achievable.  Much more achievable indeed.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘So what is your name, dear sprite.’ 
    ‘Minxy,’ said the water sprite which lived under the crossing of
    Newmerella river in Chakola, in reply to Darren Merryweather’s
    question.’  ‘Minxy?  How original?’  ‘Ooh. 
    Sarcastic are we.  Father warned me about men like you. 
    Watch out for those ones.  You never know what they might do?’ 
    ‘Oh, you have nothing to worry about with me, Minxy,’ replied
    Darren.  ‘I am above board.’  Lucy looked at the sprite
    dressed in blue, which Darren had summoned with a spell. 
    ‘Well.  How many of you live in this river.’  The
    sprite looked at Lucy, a little grin on her face.  ‘Mmm. 
    I believe I have already answered that question, young Lucy.  It
    is for me to know and you to find out.’  ‘Well, how will I
    know if you don’t tell me?’  The sprite considered that. 
    ‘Good point, Miss Potter.  I will have to consider that. 
    Perhaps if you ask my Father, he may answer you on that question. 
    But I won’t.’  ‘Were is he?’ asked Darren.  ‘Oh,
    he lives upstream a hundred metres or so, just near the bend. 
    His favourite place of the river.’  ‘Shall we go and ask
    him?’ Lucy asked Darren.  ‘I guess so.’  ‘Let him
    know his daughter sent you.  Minxy, remember.  He rarely
    visits me down here, and I don’t like swimming upstream.’ 
    ‘You swim?  Why not fly?  Can’t you do that?’ 
    Minxy looked at Lucy, thinking on the question.  ‘Well, yes,
    actually.  But only when we are summoned.  And only if our
    summoner asks us to.  Otherwise we do not have permission. 
    If I am to visit Father, I have to swim upstream.  And for a
    sprite such as me, 100 metres is a long way upstream.’  ‘Oh,’
    said Lucy, now understanding.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Darren and Lucy trod along the sand
    along the river, making their way up to the bend.  After a few
    metres, they heard the sound of a vehicle stopping at the crossing
    behind them.  Turning around, Darren noticed a blonde man slowly
    walking towards them.  ‘I wonder who that is?’ said Darren,
    a mild look of concern on his face.  As the stranger neared,
    Darren started to worry a little.  The face seemed familiar. 
    He was not sure if he could exactly place it, but he sensed a spirit
    of darkness associated with it.  A darkness which seemed quite
    unpleasant.  As the stranger neared, he spoke out to them. 
    ‘Are you Mr Merryweather?’  ‘Yes, that is I,’ nodded
    Darren.  The stranger pulled out a wand and pointed it at
    Darren, yelling ‘Magmas.’  However, Darren had sensed the
    attack very quickly, as belied his training in the ministry of magic,
    and had cast a Defensive spell to shield him and Lucy from the bolt
    of flame.  ‘Darren.  I’m scared,’ Lucy stuttered, the
    lass trembling beside him.  Darren himself was also in a state
    of fear.  And he had now recognized his opponent from the
    Ministry of Magic files.  It was one of the most malicious dark
    warlocks of all – the dreaded Lucifer Malfoy.’  
    ‘Lucy.  Listen carefully.  Listen very carefully.  I
    will cast another spell on you, and you cross over the river and hide
    in the house.  No, better yet, get Barry and tell him to bring
    his rifle.  And tell him to load it.  Shotguns often work
    best in situations like this.’  Darren eyed Lucifer who was
    standing about 10 metres away, hand on chin, considering his next
    attack.  Darren muttered a few words, and yelled at Lucy to run
    across the river.  Lucifer watched the girl go, but didn’t
    care.  Merryweather was his objective.  Having crossed the
    river, Lucy looked at the two men.  Darren was standing, ready
    for whatever came next, while the white haired man seemed to be
    considering her next move.  She was still trembling, and very
    scared – but at this distance she felt a little safer. 
    Suddenly she had an idea.  The man had probably forgotten about
    her.  If she cast a spell on him, perhaps he would not be ready
    to shield himself.  She thought as quickly as she could, and
    instantly one of the spells from Ultima IV – or to be precise, a
    spell which was similar to one from that game – came to her mind. 
    She pulled out her wand, pointed it at the man, and with every ounce
    of willpower the young, terrified, Lucy Potter had available to her
    shouted ‘Relocate.’  Blue and white light emanated from her
    wand, sprouted forth and, finding its target, undertook its
    objective.  A few moments later the man had disappeared. 
    Darren, noting the light and the direction it had come from, turned
    to Lucy.  ‘Bloody hell Lucy.  What the hell was that?’ 
    ‘Relocate.  It was all that I could think of.’  Darren
    walked over to were the man had been standing, punched the air to
    make sure nobody was there, and trudged across the river to Lucy. 
    Despite his also apparent shaken state, he had one of the biggest
    grins Lucy had ever seen on Mr Merryweather.  ‘You are a
    Potter, aren’t you dear Lucy.’  ‘Uh, yeh,’ said Lucy,
    still trembling somewhat.  ‘Come on.  Up to the house. 
    I have to phone Alfric.  I know who it was, and he will need to
    notify some people.  Do you know were you sent him?’ 
    Lucy shook her head.  ‘I just cast the spell as quickly as I
    could.  It was the only one I could think of.’  Darren
    nodded.  ‘Mmm.  Well, wherever he is, I do hope there is
    not a happy welcoming for him.  Hopefully a swamp, or some
    quicksand.  Not a pleasant soul, that one.  Not in any way
    pleasant.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    The two of them trudged up to the
    schoolhome, and after Lucy had calmed down and been given some of
    Brigid’s pumpkin soup, Darren called Alfric.  Hours later Lucy
    was still jumpy, but had calmed down somewhat.  It had been an
    experience.  An intense experience.  But one she would most
    definitely not like to repeat if she had any say in the matter.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucifer Malfoy screamed. 
    Obscenities directed at Lucy Potter were gushing from his mouth. 
    There he sat, in a prison cell.  But not any prison cell. 
    He was back in his cell in Azkerbahn.  The very same one he had
    escaped from.  The Potter girl had cast ‘Relocate’ on him,
    sending him back to were he had come from.  It was a most
    unfortunate encounter.  And as one of the guards, finding their
    missing guest now returned to them grinned madly, Lucifer Malfoy
    plotted in his heart the most evil of vengeances on young Miss Lucy
    Potter.
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Lucy.  This is not always the
    most pleasant of worlds.  I am sure that you can recall a number
    of lessons I have taught you about dark wizards and warlocks. 
    They are the darker aspects of our craft.  An aspect which has
    oft ruined our reputation.  But they are not the heart of our
    craft, nor ever will be.  This character, I am afraid young
    child, may not like you that much at this present time. 
    Wherever he is, he may be planning an attack on you.  Now, I
    will need you to sit down in a circle later on, for I have a great
    number of protective charms I wish to cast on you.  And, despite
    your young age, there are now spells I feel obligated to teach you. 
    If this character ever returns, you may find yourself having to face
    him alone.  It is horrible for such a young girl to ever have to
    face this.  But evil exists, and not everyone is motivated by
    goodness.  So you will need to be prepared, young Miss Lucy. 
    You will need to be prepared.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Later that night, Shelandragh,
    receiving news from Alfric about Lucifer’s reappearance in
    Azkerbahn, thanked the powers that be.  A weight, an enormous
    weight had been lifted from her shoulders.  She was so
    relieved.  She thought on Lucy and felt that the lass was
    probably having a sleepless night, and knew she must share this news
    immediately.  Ringing Caroline, she apologized for the late hour
    of the call, and asked for Lucy.  Lucy had indeed been sleepless
    and she could feel the real relief in Lucy’s voice when the news of
    Lucifer’s recapture, as it were, had been given to her.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Later on, Shelandragh thought on the
    nature of her craft.  It had always had it’s darker elements. 
    From ancient days, dark wizardry had been practiced which had
    corrupted the Lightworkers craft.  But she did believe,
    ultimately, that the power of good and the power of those who were
    good within her craft would ultimately be seen.  On that issue,
    Shelandragh May had some faith.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Chapter Eleven
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Lucy the Hero’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Morning had broken.  The afternoon
    sun was shining forth, strong and bright, as Lucy flew on the back of
    Goldie, following the highway below, headed for Cooma.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    This was intense.  Goldie had
    flown with her on his back just yesterday.  And today, without
    Shelandragh’s permission, she had taken Goldie and decided to go
    off on a grand and exciting adventure.  Too see what was out
    there.  First she had flown the dragon to Chakola from Bunyan,
    and rested the dragon near the crossing.  She had summoned the
    sprite Minxy with a spell to show her the dragon, who had exclaimed,
    ‘Yikes.  A Dragon.  Shoo.  Shoo.’  Lucy had
    laughed at the Sprites animated behaviour.  Minxy had, so she
    now started to suspect, been acting deliberately cheekily towards
    herself.  She felt the sprite had been having a little fun with
    her.  She was not sure if all sprites were like that, but Minxy
    was certainly a most passionate sprite regardless.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Leaving the crossing, she had decided
    to fly the dragon into Cooma to the main street to show off. 
    That would probably displease Shelandragh greatly, but Lucy was in a
    rebellious mood that day.  A mood which was far from regular for
    the young miss Potter, but not unknown of.  She had decided, in
    her infinite wisdom, to fly to centennial park to show the people of
    Cooma the dragon.  It could make her quite popular which, again,
    was not the most regular of attitudes for young Lucy.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Flying along, she soon passed by Monaro
    High School, just on the right-hand side of the highway on the
    northern side of Cooma.  Her mother had told her that she would
    most likely send her to that school from probably year 8 or 9
    onwards.  It would round off her education with the necessary
    teaching to prepare her for later university studies if she so
    desired them.  She had never explored the school, not being
    allowed to roam around Cooma very often, but she had seen it from the
    road and thought, when she was older, making new friends there could
    be a great experience for herself.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Soon she flew over the big water tank
    on one of the hills of Cooma.  The big square steel one,
    surrounded by some bush and what looked like a church.  The park
    lay in the centre of town, just a few hundred metres down the hill. 
    She soared down, the dragon gliding dutifully, and soon she hovered
    above the park.  Almost instantly a number of people started
    yelling and pointing at her.  It seemed she had already
    attracted the attention that she desired.  She decided to show
    off a little.  She had been very careful sitting on the saddle
    that Shelandragh had made in the weeks before the dragon’s could
    fly.  She was tightly strapped to the saddle with a number of
    straps, which made it impossible for her to fall off the dragon. 
    They were made of hardened leather, and were quite thick and strong. 
    She decided to test them out.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    She flew the dragon in a great
    nose-dive downwards and then zoomed right up again into the sky. 
    This brought the desired cheers from the gathering crowd, who had
    come from everywhere to see the spectacle.  It worked well so
    she decided to do it again, with the same desired effect of cheers
    coming again.  She flew around in circles for a few moments,
    thinking over her next feat.  The straps did in fact appear to
    be holding without any problems, so she decided to do something bold,
    if the dragon could possibly manage it.  Communicating to the
    mind of the dragon, which she had instinctively been able to do with
    the dragons after a couple of weeks, she asked Goldie if he would
    like to do a loop.  ‘I am not sure, Lucy.  If you weren’t
    on my back it would probably be easy.  But with you it may be a
    little more difficult.’  ‘Well, okay.  But do you want
    to give it a try to see anyway?’  ‘Well.  Alright. 
    I will give it a go.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    The Xtreme Kings, who had been having
    lunch in the park, munching on burgers and soft drink, had been
    enthralled by the sight of the dragon.  They had grown up with
    stories from the old world rumouring that dragon’s did in fact
    still exist.  These were often compared in the papers to stories
    with the same credibility as the existence of aliens.  But now,
    seeing what only could be described as a young girl flying on a
    dragon, the Kings were enthralled.  Ty, Jerry and Doug looked on
    as the Dragon again zoomed downwards and then soared up again in a
    circular style and, to their great surprise, doing a complete loop. 
    ‘Fucking hell,’ said Jerry, blown away by the sight of the dragon
    doing the loop.  ‘Bloody intense, this is,’ said Ty. 
    As the Kings watched on the Dragon and its rider did a few more loops
    and various other acrobatic manoeuvres.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Hugo, upon hearing the news of an
    apparent dragon doing tricks above centennial park, had rushed down
    from the bookstore, to see the sight.  There it was.  A
    dragon.  A real dragon.  He had read a number of books
    about the existence of dragons, taking a great interest in the
    subject.  He had
    
    
    
    
    come to no definite position on wether
    they actually did exist or not.  But seeing what could only be a
    real dragon with a girl flying it confirmed what he had only guessed
    could be true.  Someone standing near him said to him, ‘Its
    probably really some sort of super-jet.  A hi-tech super-jet
    made to look like a dragon.  I bet its really fake.’ 
    Hugo looked at the dragon.  ‘I don’t know.  That sort
    of technology is very hard to come up with for something that size
    and with a girl riding it.  And you don’t see any thrusters
    burning flames or anything.  Nah, I think it’s the real
    thing.’  The bloke speaking to him, nodded.  ‘Yeh, I
    suppose.  But bloody freaky isn’t it.’  ‘Very,’
    agreed Hugo, standing there staring up at one of the most intense
    things he had ever seen.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Eventually, after a parade of various
    acrobatics, Lucy decided to land in the park to let the gathered
    crowd actually see and pet the dragon.  They probably deserved
    that much.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    She spoke to Goldie and he slowly
    descended, coming to rest near the concrete walkway along sharp
    street, next to the Snowy Mountains Monument, alongside the park. 
    The gathered crowd slowly approached.  ‘Is the dragon
    dangerous?’ a voice asked.  ‘No.  He is harmless. 
    He is still very young and has grown up around humans.  He won’t
    hurt any of you.’  The gathered crowd, seemingly relieved at
    those words, came forward.  Young kids came and petted the
    dragon and anxious parents looked on, often expressions of caution
    and concern on their face.  ‘What’s its name?’ a young
    girl asked.  ‘Goldie.’  Said Lucy.  ‘He is
    actually a golden-ridged Wyvvern, and not a dragon.  They are
    very similar animals.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    A number of questions came forth from
    various people, filling up the next 20 minutes or so.  Lucy sat
    there, beaming joy.  This was awesome, she thought to herself. 
    It got the exact reaction she had hoped for.  Really cool.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Just across from the monument, on the
    other side of the street at the St George Bank, Jeremy Bludstone,
    wearing a balaclava, had just exited the now robbed bank, with a
    bundle of cash in a backpack.  He had walked in, and before the
    protective screen doors over the till could close, he had place a
    metal stand between the counter and the screen doors.  When
    someone quickly pushed the button, the screen doors quickly came
    down, but became jammed on the metal stand.  He thought the
    tactic would work, which it had.  He had pointed his rifle at
    the cashier who, the fear on her face apparent, had fill the bag with
    a bundle of a hundred dollar notes.  And then he had skedaddled.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy, having looked around, spotted the
    man exiting the bank, wearing a balaclava, with a rifle and bag. 
    She thought, instantly, that he had robbed the bank.  Instantly
    she thought to herself – Magic.  Speaking to the mind of
    Goldie, the dragon lifted from the air and rushed over to were the
    man was, having taken off his balaclava and running up the street. 
    She ordered Goldie to fly quickly and he came up in front of the man,
    who came to a standstill.  She pulled out her wand, pointed it
    at the man, and yelled.  ‘Drop the money.  Crook.’ 
    Jeremy looked at her, startled for seeing a dragon for the first time
    in his life.  He quickly came to his senses, though.  ‘This
    is a joke, right?  You have got to be kidding me.’  Lucy
    continued staring at him, and decided to bold again.  ‘I said
    drop the money.  This is a warning.’  Jeremy looked at
    her, and a grin formed on his face.  ‘Little lady.  What
    the hell can you do to me?’ he asked, a smirk on his face. 
    Lucy looked at him.  Her mind, surprisingly, was calm. 
    After the encounter with Lucifer, she was suddenly not overly
    bothered by a man with a rifle.  She was a witch.  She
    could handle it.  ‘This is your last warning, robber. 
    Drop the money.’  The man looked at her.  She was young,
    and he didn’t really think he wanted to have a murder rap placed on
    him, so decided to point the gun at her to scare her instead. 
    In those few seconds, as Jeremy Bludstone slowly raised his rifle
    with the intent of pointing the gun at Lucy, Lucy yelled out with all
    her strength, ‘Freeze!’.  A bolt of pure white light shot
    forth from her wand, and the robber, soon encompassed by light, soon
    froze like a block of ice.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy came up to the man, and touched
    him.  Yes – he was frozen.  He was okay, though. 
    The freeze spell in her arsenal had preserving qualities.  The
    man would be frozen, but his body would be okay.  He would
    unfreeze after a while.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    A short while later the sound of sirens
    could be heard.  After a few moments, three police cars pulled
    up along sharp street, and a number of police officers quickly exited
    their vehicles, and cautiously approached Lucy and the dragon. 
    Lucy looked at the police and spoke, ‘I cast a freeze spell on the
    bankrobber.’  One of the officers looked at the robber, and
    touched him.  He was indeed frozen.  He looked at the
    animal that Lucy was sitting on.  ‘What is that?’ he asked. 
    Lucy smiled.  ‘A dragon, officer.’  He shook his head,
    not sure what just to make of the situation before him. 
    ‘Whatever!’, he said after a few moments.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    ‘Lucy the Hero.’  Shelandragh
    read the headline from the paper in front of her.  She looked at
    Lucy, sitting in front of her.  ‘Heaven’s above, Lucy. 
    Heaven’s above.’   She said, smiling, looking at her
    young student.  Lucy just grinned back.  ‘I am not sure
    that being a superhero was what your mother and Shelandragh had in
    mind in teaching you magic, young Lucy,’ said Darren, seated
    opposite her.  ‘Oh its alright.  You cast spells. 
    Fight crime.  All in a day’s work,’ said Lucy, the spirit of
    mockery and cheekiness having come alive in the last few days. 
    Darren shook his head a little at the cheek of the girl.  ‘Well,
    at least if that Lucifer ever comes back, he will have his hands
    filled,’ said Darren to Shelandragh.  Shelandragh nodded,
    knowingly.  ‘That dark devil is way too much for Lucy. 
    But, yes, I see your point.  Our young lady is probably ready
    for the challenges life could throw at her.’  ‘If Lucifer
    comes my way, I’ll zap him,’ said Lucy.  Shelandragh looked
    at her young pupil.  ‘Yes.  You’ll zap him.’ 
    ‘Well it better be a good zap, young Lucy.  A good zap
    indeed,’ said Darren.  Lucy just continued grinning.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    *   *   *  
    *   *
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Lucy looked at the medal of heroism the
    Cooma town mayor had presented to her.  It was goldish looking,
    and reminded her of an Olympic medal.  It read, ‘To brave
    young Lucy Potter.  The citizens of Cooma are forever in your
    debt.’
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    She placed the medal back on the shelf,
    next to her bed in her room in Chakola.  It had been an eventful
    week.  Perhaps the most eventful in her life.  This year,
    so far, had been freakish for young Lucy Potter.  She had met
    sprites, seen dragons, fought warlock’s, and caught a bank-robber. 
    And the year was still not quite over with.  What the next year
    could bring, she could only wonder.  But if it was as exciting
    as this one had been, it would be a year to remember.  A year to
    remember indeed.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Getting back into bed, she pulled up
    the sheet covers.  She lay there, looking up at the ceiling. 
    Staring at the luminous dinosaur stickers who shone back at her. 
    Who knows what next year may bring, she thought again to herself. 
    Who knows.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    A little later on, the sounds of
    snoring coming forth from the Lucy’s room, an owl sat outside
    Lucy’s window.  It ‘hooed’, as owls hooed, and the night
    slowly passed.  It slowly passed by, going through its allotted
    and most regular of duties.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    Epilogue
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    David Potter, drinking from the dank
    creek, one of the few sources of water he had found in his dark,
    nightly, home, sat there thinking.  After a while, the Shadow
    realm life was tolerable.  It was forever in night, and the feel
    of living in it was totally unlike the normal world, but he had
    adapted.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    He had wandered the shadow realm for
    years now.  Years he could not count, for time was measureless
    in this godforsaken place.  There were regular watering places,
    and a large supply of various fungus, which were the only eating
    material.  They were not pleasant food, but over the years he
    had lived there had managed to cope with them.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    He had met one other soul in his time
    in the Shadow realm.  A centaur named ‘Draxos’, who he spoke
    with regularly.  He, likewise, had been exiled to the Shadow
    realm to live out his existence.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    David had continued to age normally and
    guessed he would probably one day die here.  And then, perhaps,
    the mysteries of the afterlife would then be revealed.  He
    thought on his wife Caroline often, and his daughter Lucy. 
    Although never having been a religious man, he prayed a little for
    them from time to time.  In this dark purgatory it seemed there
    was little else he could do.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    But, having finally managed to remember
    some of his old spells, which seemed impossible to think of in this
    dark place, for whatever reason, David felt, perhaps, he may
    eventually be able to leave this dark realm.  He had finally
    remembered ‘Shados’.  The spell which transported someone to
    the Shadow realm.  And now, for the last year, as much as he
    could guess what a year was, he had been trying to remember if there
    was a spell to reverse Shados.  It had not come.  Not yet
    come to him.  But he would persevere.  If he could
    remember.  If he could make that breakthrough.   Then
    perhaps, just perhaps, his exile would be over with.  And the
    life he longed for with his family could be returned to him. 
    Returned to him with a new beginning for the life of David Potter.
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    THE END
    
     


End file.
